Chains of Blood
by Setrus
Summary: Champions aren't trained, they're made, through coincidence and hardships, potential is forged into ability. And as old and new conflicts ignite into something more, that ability will be sorely tested... T for violence and possible romance, not a simple retelling of the game, where would the fun in that be?
1. Chapter 1

Ostagar was alive with activity.

Everywhere servants were moving back and forth on errands; soldiers were eating, tending to their equipment or training. There were tents everywhere, like a small cluster of mushroom that had defiantly taken root at the foot of the once mighty forest, the men and women within tiny ants, labouring to maintain their little island of civilisation in an ocean of wild and misty forest.

Carver liked it.

It wasn't the the way they defied the dark forest, or the Darkspawn within it, or even how they had managed to create a camp so permanent it might as well count as a town.

No, it was the fact that _he_ had chosen to become part of it on his _own_, that he had decided to make something of himself. Not being a Freeholder or having been conscripted, Carver had no obligation to join the army, yet he had signed up with the Lothering militia, ready to defend his home and his family.

Back in Lothering Peaches had of course loved it...she was even more admiring of him after that...almost enough to forget about his brother.

Carver's nose twitched at the thought, but he chose to ignore it.

_No, I'm here, __I'm__ her boyfriend, __not__ Garrett, __I'm__ the volunteer ready to defend Lothering, he simply tagged along_. He straightened as he walked, the thought encouraging, the hand holding the scroll he'd been given by an officer not a few moments ago closing tighter around it.

He was certainly an imposing sight, and was _aware_ of it. Being a Hawke he was tall, a full six foot one, and his athletic build, hardened by long journeys through the countryside as well as countless hours of working at various farms, was one no man in Lothering could match. His rectangular face and distinct brow was as if carved out of rock, and looked disciplined with his dark hair cut short and his deeply set dark blue eyes.

As such he had towered above the rest of the militia, conscripted from the people that normally would call themselves _fortunate_ to live so close to the village, but now conscripted because of it. With his father's greatsword, an odd thing for an apostate to carry, he hadn't even needed to be outfitted like the rest of the militia, save a light suit of leather armour Carver suspected was more for show than actual use. With that in mind, and that he displayed far greater skill than any of the others in the militia, one didn't travel through the breath of the land without encountering the odd wolf or even bandit, Carver had been a shoe-in for the position as _captain_ of the militia...

Of course that hadn't happened when his _brother_ had shown up...Carver couldn't stop himself from grimacing at the memory.

There was only one reason for Garrett joining. When Carver had announced his enlistment, hoping to at least be appreciated for wanting to defend their _home_, he had instead been met with shock and fright. Garrett and Leandra in particular had been vocal in their displeasure, Leandra out of simple motherly worry, but Garrett not only out of a wish to shelter, but also out of his usual idea of them hiding and escaping...why fight to defend what was yours when you could simply run away if the battle turned poorly? Sure, such thinking had kept the family with their apostate members safe for ages...but Carver was _not_ about to let it happen again, not after all they had done to finally settle down, at some point one had to stop running and _fight_. _Besides, if the Darkspawn conquer Ferelden_..._where_ _would_ _we_ _go_?

While the brothers were equal in skill, even though Garrett had to be outfitted with a standard sword and shield from the armoury before proving that, _that_ had not decided things. Carver was more imposing and had made himself at least somewhat popular among the people at Lothering by often going to the Dane's refuge inn for a pint. But Garrett, despite being a bit of a mystery to most since he only came in for work before returning home, was _respected_. It was so _stupid_, he didn't speak when it wasn't needed, and as such people put _such_ worth on when he _did_ that they all fell silent as if it was the words of the Revered Mother _herself_!

And the bloody recruiters had _seen_ that...which mean _Garrett_ was now the Captain of the militia, a militia he didn't even _want_ to be in! And not only had he been given a proper suit of Ferelden scale armour so as to stand out among the rest of the militia...but then there was the case of the bloody _mutt_...

He could see the militia now, huddling around a large fire as the cold evening wind poured through the ravine below the ruined fortress. The men were talking in hushed voices, speaking of what was on everyone's lips. When would the Darkspawn try another attack? Was it true the scouts had seen the largest force seen so far creeping closer? What would they do?

Carver's eyes naturally drifted to his brother, the man sitting among the ring of men. First Carver's eyes darted down to the brown Mabari lounging at the man's feet though, a twinge of jealousy in his heart. The dog had joined Garrett the day the militia had marched into Ostagar, he had jumped the fence to his pen, trotted over to the Captain and sat down next to him...and that had been it apparently, not a word had been spoken, not by the master or dog, not until the dog's trainer had exclaimed his wonder such an amazing thing, it had been enough to make Carver gag.

And it had only gotten worse when the rest of the militia had started to think of the dog as their mascot and cajoled the oh so annoyingly blasé Garrett to actually _name_ the mutt. He had frowned for a moment...and then picked 'Maric' to the cheers of the men, surely it had to be a good sign that he had picked the name of their king's famous father? Which of course had been the reason why the man had picked it...he never did anything without an _angle_...

Yet despite the jealousy always rolling around in his stomach like a bad wine, Carver couldn't help feeling the affection of a brother that had protected him and the rest of the family for so long when looking up at Maric's master.

Like all the Hawke children Garrett towered over most Fereldians, though he was only three inches shorter than Carver, something Carver knew was a bit silly to feel proud about, but was unable to help himself from feeling. Garrett _seemed_ shorter though, very much so due to his broad build, not just by the shoulders, but the entire body, giving him an exceedingly bulky impression despite the man lacking any fat.

The broadness continued above the shoulders with the man's bull-like neck, though like Carver he had inherited the rectangular shape of his face from their father, _unlike_ Carver he had also gotten their father's dark brown eyes though, making him the child resembling their dead old dad the most. His dark hair was nearly cut as short as Carver's, yet for once he didn't sport a thick matt of stubble, in the army his usual forgetfulness about personal appearance was not allowed.

Except for the lack of magic, the man was just like his father, a man dedicated to his family to a fault, a scholar...and not to mention a bit of a bore...

As if sensing his gaze, the Mabari at the man's feet raised his head, calmly looking at Carver, making him shiver._ Damn, that Mabari's just like Garrett_..._it's not natural for a dog to be so quiet_... A moment later Garrett looked up, the same calm look as the dog on his face as he eyed Carver, the usual little smile reserved for family members gone now that they were with people. "Carver, you bring news?"

"Yes, brother." Carver curtly replied. _I'll be caught dead before I call him Captain_... Walking over until he could feel the heat of the fire, which he was thankful for given the cold dampness in the air, Carver handed over the scroll.

Ignoring the sudden silence around the fire, Garrett pushed a thumb into the scroll and broke the seal before pulling the scroll open. One hand carefully smoothed the signs of Carver's involuntary abuse while the other held it up before the fire so he could read, uncaring of the many men around him elbowing one another to get a glimpse.

"Hmmm...seems the Darkspawn are indeed massing for an attack." Garrett's calm words triggered a worried buzz among the men, though he ignored it as he continued. "We're to form up tomorrow at the rear of the king's forces, guarding two companies of archers within the ravine."

A brief moment of hesitation among the men, then one shook his head. "Damn, at the rear, _again_?" Carver grimaced, it was true, in every encounter they had had with the Darkspawn the militia had been in the rear, finishing off wounded creatures at the most, mostly walking over mangled corpses. Of course, in contrast to Carver the man was just putting up a show...

It was confirmed when a second man, Carver thought his name was Jeffrey, spoke up, eyes nervously darting left and right. "Yeah, when do _we_ get some action?"

Carver straightened, snarling a far more eager agreement. "Standing in the rear is no way to get promotions, that's for sure."

There were many nods and low sounds of agreements from the nervous men...except for Garrett who shot Carver a sharp look of annoyance.

Then, when the militiamen were done echoing Carver's words and growl out their eagerness to fight, Garrett spoke, making them all go silent. "Putting the militia at the rear is a sound strategy, we are not professional soldiers or knights like the rest of the army, so if anyone is to be in the rear, it is us."

Silence. Then one man carefully eyeing the others, muttering. "I suppose..."

"Besides, by being in the rear we are in the safest possible location, which means we have little to fear." Garrett finished, eyeing the men around the fire with a level gaze, to Carver's annoyance many of them visibly relaxed, relieved at such news. _Cowards_..._hiding behind others isn't for me_.

Carver knew better than to say so though, making enemies with the other men was a bad idea, not to mention he would probably receive Garrett's 'scowl of doom' if he showed any form of eagerness to prove himself in combat...

Instead he elbowed himself a spot by the fire and turned to his brother, trying to sound casual despite his eagerness to know what would happen. "Any information on the battle plan?"

"Yes." Garrett replied with a nod, eyeing the parchment. "The king's banner, including us, will hold the ravine and camp and draw in the Darkspawn. When they are committed to us there will be a signal from the tower of Ishal that will signal Teyrn Loghain's banner to come in for a charge from the east, that's left of us for those that are confused, hopefully routing them."

Silence.

A few men shifted, nervous. Then Martin, a man with a nearly crow-like nose, one that ensured he never got a dance at spring-festival if Carver remembered correctly, said what they all were thinking. "Splitting our forces? Against this _horde_? Is that wise...?"

Tim, a thin man with an already receding hairline, who actually was Peaches' brother, grimaced. _Maybe I should tell him about me and his sister, I mean if anyone said he was dating Bethany I'd kill him, but I'm sure Tim is more reasonable_..._and less dangerous_... "Yeah, I played dice with this Ash warrior that had been out scouting, lost my entire wage – damn cheater – and _he_ said he'd _never_ seen so many Darkspawn as there is now, all coming for us."

_Or maybe I'll tell him after a game of dice, winning for once might put him in a good mood_. Carver managed a chuckle. "Bah, the Ash warriors are just trying to make it sound like their work is more dangerous than it is, _scouts_...bah." Straightening he cocked an eyebrow at the others. "I wager each one of us is worth _ten_ of those things."

There were a few chuckles at that, even a few grins, though the uncertainty still lingered in the air. _Cowards_...

Carver straightened even further, defiant of the atmosphere.

Garrett then spoke, his tone almost monotone. "The strategy is sound." Everyone blinked, looking at him as he looked into the fire. "By holding the ravine we can funnel the Darkspawn into a narrow passage where their numbers will be less important. A hidden force from the flank can then rout them, making the fight far easier, it's precisely what Andraste did at the battle of Spirit-vale against the Tevinters." He glanced up at the others, noticing their stares and no doubt realising they didn't know what he was referring to, the Chantry in Lothering might have a lot of books for reading, but few but Garrett exploited that. "She suffered nearly no losses."

"Well if the Maker's bride managed that, and we're fighting creatures he _hates _in a way he's already blessed..." One of the men Carver couldn't quite place, probably living at the other side of the village, spoke with a bright smile. "...how could we possibly lose!" _Oh great, put your faith in the Maker, __he'll__ solve everything_...

Carver knew Garrett felt somewhat similar about that, but the man didn't say anything, and not surprisingly since everyone around the fire were nodding and muttering more confidently about their chances.

Instead the man carefully rolled the scroll up again, put it into his rucksack and began scratching Maric behind the ear, content to stay silent as the others boasted and joked about.

Carver was tempted to join him, to look equally beyond such things.

Yet he couldn't, _he_ liked to be _social_.

As such he pulled forth a pouch with dice and moved over to Tim...

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for always being ready._


	2. Chapter 2

It was cold.

Shivering, Carver inched closer to Tim to his right, the man's torch welcoming for it's warmth as much as for the light it was casting in the greyness of the evening. The man offered him a smile, then moved the torch closer. Tim's eyes swiftly forgot about his new-found friend who was apparently _worse_ at dice than him though, his gaze sweeping over the sight before them.

And who could blame him?

Carver's own gaze swept over the sight, his hands itching to reach back and draw his sword, despite the Darkspawn not yet having revealed themselves.

They stood near the top of a muddy slope leading down into a slowly widening ravine between the ruins of the Ostagar fortress and the royal camp that each rested atop a rocky outcrop. To the left and right of the militia earthen ramparts had been constructed, the side facing down the slope bristling with wooden stakes to deter any attacker, as if the dozens of armoured bowmen standing atop the mounds weren't enough. Above them the old bridge leading between the royal camp and the Ostagar ruins rose majestically...and was also filled with ballistae and bowmen.

Further down the slope the ravine widened enough for the rest of the army. There rank upon rank of heavily armoured soldiers, men and women covered in so much steel it was impossible to tell one from the other, stood at the ready. Torches spread across the ranks flickered, the lights reflecting against the rims of shields, the blades of swords and axes. The lights seemingly danced as the soldiers shifted where they stood, a dark sea of steel, churning as the storm of war drew closer.

He could see king Cailan, the man a golden figure at the far right, nearly hidden by the dark armour of his body-guards, still as statues as their king gestured here and there, sending messengers out for the last few orders. Among all the soldiers and knights the priests of the Maker looked incredibly frail, their robed forms slowly walking along the ranks, balls of incense swinging before them as they muttered prayers of protection, making many a soldier kneel for a last blessing.

Then, past the ravine, the bastion of civilisation ended.

Carver knew Teyrn Loghain and his men were somewhere to the left, past the tall hill there, but it was a small comfort with the darkness before him.

A mist had risen, white ropes of it coiling over one another along the grassy field ahead. It was even heavier beyond the open field, in the forest of tall trees that were so thick Carver couldn't imagine any woodcutter even _trying_ to bring one down. The mist there had risen even higher, turning trunks into indistinct shapes and making it seem as if they were gazing down at the very end of the world.

_Maybe it is_...

Carver shivered again, suddenly glad his brother was there as he shot the man a look.

In contrast to the rest of the militia, Garrett looked calm, the man's brown eyes sweeping back and forth over the forest, as if seeing nothing of particular interest. It wasn't that the man didn't know fear, but if he had time to prepare and think things over he could usually defeat any fear...which was why the family could trust him to get them out of trouble...just like now.

Calm and waiting, the man stood still, as if nothing but a statue, gazing out over over the field with endless patience. Maric was sitting on his haunches next to the man, the Mabari equally still and calm as he gazed out.

Carver wasn't as good at that. _Can't the bloody Darkspawn show themselves so we can get this over with_! He reached back for his sword...and then calmed himself, arm dropping down before he reached it._ I hate the wait_..._it's_ _always_ _so_ _miserable_...

As if on queue, water struck his arms, first barely noticeable, then a growing drumming of tiny raindrops that made Carver's skin sting as the wind whipping through the ravine picked up strength. _Of_ _course_..._all_ _we_ _lack_ _now_ _is_ _lighting_. Carver rolled his eyes and inched even closer to Tim and his warm torch...and a crackle echoed over the sky. _Maker_..._I hate you so much right now_...

Someone in the line groaned, breaking the silence Carver hadn't even been aware of. "Dammit, this just isn't _fair_..."

"Well..." Carver shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. "...at least this way the soup waiting for us won't be _solid_ crap like last time."

A few men chuckled at that, creating some warmth in the miserable group. Noticing Garrett's approving nod, though the man didn't actually glance at him, Carver straightened a bit as he looked over the group. Like him their armour left much to ask for, but at least he could avert the odd glancing blow to the chest. Those at the front carried small shields and a mix of swords, axes and maces, while those further back carried somewhat weak-looking spears...they hadn't exactly had the pick of the armoury.

Yet all wasn't bad.

The weather had soured their mood, their equipment was sub-par and Carver was well aware their training was minimal compared to the soldiers further up...but each one there was defending his _home_, in a real, _immediate_ way. Their training-sergeant had told them this, Garrett had repeated it, they had _all_ said it at some point...if Ostagar fell, so would _Lothering_. As such there was a core of decisiveness among the men, a resolve in the way their hands clenched tight to their weapons and how they looked out towards the dark forest...

Carver could understand them, it felt like an eternity since their family had travelled the breadth of the land to keep safe, before they had found Lothering, before they had started a poor but calmer life. Gritting his teeth Carver couldn't help but agree with the others in their silent wow, he drew his blade and looked out towards the distant forest. _They won't take our home_...

_Wait_...

He blinked.

Garrett was the one giving voice to it. "They're here."

Immediately there was a rustling among the men as those at the back pushed and straightened to see past or above the men in front, even among the disciplined ranks below there was a shift of movement as the soldiers noticed the approach of their hated foe.

The Darkspawn.

Stepping out of the mist it was as if they were some otherworldly spectres appearing right out of the ground, as silent as ghosts. They were nothing but feral beasts, yet there was a frightening silence about them as they slowly stepped out of the forest...reminding Carver of wolves closing in on a wounded prey. He could make out the Ogres, great hulking beasts towering over a sea of Genlocks and Hurlocks...yet from the distance the later two were nothing but a dark mass of sick flesh and crude steel, no individuals, only a _mass_...slowly engulfing the ground before them like some sort of disease. Carver remembered the soldiers he'd seen infected with the blight from the previous battles all too well...they _were_ a disease.

A disease to be _purged_.

Slowly, the sea of filth came to a stop...a great mass of monsters standing before the humans in the ravine, a blot of blackness covering the ground and disappearing into the mist, how many more were waiting within it Carver couldn't even guess.

Silence.

Then a low growl reached him, making Carver strain his ears only to realise it wasn't from one single Darkspawn, it was _all_ of them, growling, fuelling themselves with hate as they glared across the distance at those that dared to oppose them.

The growl was lengthening, turning into a howling, a sound of rage and hatred unbound, making Carver's jaw ache and his hands to tighten around his blade.

Then, as the sound reached a crescendo...it _stopped_.

_Wha_...?

A moment later the Darkspawn moved, from still to sprinting in the blink of an eye, the dark mass like a flood, ready to crash against the dam of human steel ahead.

With the wind it was nearly impossible to hear what Cailan was shouting, but the gesture of his massive sword could not be missed...and a moment later the archers flanking the militia as well as those further down the slope drew back their bowstrings and let loose.

It was like the sound of the wind rustling through dried leaves...that was greeted by the stumbling and felling of dozens of Darkspawn as the razor-sharp arrows thudded into creatures uncaring of protection in favour of bounding forward in their mad rage.

Again, a rustle, and again, dozens of creatures falling, slowing the charge of the rest as they stumbled over their dead or stomped them into mush. An Ogre even fell, the creature pawing at its head as it tumbled sideways, crushing all beneath it...only for it too to disappear like the other dead as more Darkspawn clambered over its corpse.

It was a constant rustling now, the initial salvo turning into an endless stream of arrows as the archers loosed their arrows as fast as humanly possible. The tiny slivers of wood and steel again and again slammed into the horde before them, slaying creature after creature, yet not making even a _visible_ mark as the horde just seemed to grow as more and more Darkspawn appeared from the tree line.

Another shout from the king, his free arm waving...and Mabari hounds that had been impossible to spot among their taller owners leapt forward, a stream of dogs looking like a pitiful little skirmish line about to be trampled to nothing by the mass about to meet them.

The Mabari didn't hesitate though, like the arrows preceding them they shot forth, straight and true to slam into their targets. A crash of hound into diseased flesh...and the Darkspawn charge slowed to a crawl as hounds bowled their targets over and tore into them, claws and fangs and the sheer _mass_ of the charging Mabari making the Darkspawn falter. Howls and growls now filled the air, accompanied by the shrieks of dying Darkspawn and the yelps of the hounds as crude steel hacked into them.

The arrows never ceased though, a constant stream of missiles thumping into the mass of monsters whose advance had slowed into a crawl, yet who didn't for a moment seem to falter in their resolve to close the gap...

Then a third shout for the king, barely audible in a sudden drop of the wind. "For Ferelden, charge!"

It wasn't the answering roar of the soldiers that drew Carver's attention, nor the way the big block of steel and flesh suddenly began moving forward...it was _Garrett_.

His brother had taken a sudden step forward, his eyes wide before he remembered himself, yet even without them Carver could pick up the subtle hint of tension in the man's stance...it spoke of shock, of _worry_.

_That can't be good_...

Turning back to the battle, Carver couldn't understand why though. The Darkspawn advance had turned into a crawl as Mabaris and whistling arrows turned the flood into a churning mass of struggling creatures...and now the Fereldians, a big block of disciplined steel only fraying at the tip as those at the front picked up speed...came crashing forth.

It was as if a hammer had struck butter.

The front ranks of the Darkspawn were simply annihilated, blood visibly exploding up at the point of impact between the mass of the blighted creatures and the Fereldian infantry hacked them up in a frenzy and trampled them underfoot. Those following suffered no better, recoiling at the sudden appearance of their foes, or stumbling into them as those in front of them died, more and more Darkspawn fell without barely putting up a fight.

The impact of the charging humans made the entire Darkspawn horde shake, the reaction of the impact spreading like ripples on water as the creatures either died or turned to fight the unexpected foe. Yet even while fighting back, the Darkspawn made little impact, the sea of monsters now pouring in from three sides of the massive block of the Fereldians were simply unable to breach the defences of a unified block of shields and heavy armour while heavy two-handed weapons and flickering smaller weapons again and again tore through their numbers with little resistance.

Then burning balls of fire suddenly appeared from from the forest, hurtling towards the bridge above the militia...only for the men atop it to answer in kind, flaming ballistae shots and arrows arching into the darkness there to deal with whatever hellish thing the Darkspawn had capable of launching such things. _Wonder if they too have mages_...? Carver glanced up at the royal camp on the outcrop to his right, knowing the Circle mages there were busy with healing wounded soldiers. _If only the Templars had allowed some more_..._and some who could shoot some fireballs back at those bastards_. Carver had seen his sister's fireballs when she had trained to control her dangerous power...and if _she_ was capable of something like that...then what could a real Circle mage be capable of? _Not that I could blame them, who would want a fireball tossing mage out of the tower and glorifying in his power and freedom at the same time_...?

Carver's thoughts were interrupted at the sight of Garrett marching forward, calling up the commanders of the archers the militia was guarding with an insistent wave of his hand. Watching, Carver saw the men approach the man...and then swiftly shake their heads at whatever he was saying. The man wasn't backing down though, gesturing sharply at the battle below and then at the archers as he quickly spoke.

The two officers exchanged looks...then glanced back at the battle where the Darkspawn were still churning around the three sides of the Fereldian block without making any progress as a froth of blood rose at the point where the two forces met. Then they looked back to one another...and shrugged before offering Garrett a polite nod and moving back to their troops.

Garrett too turned back to the militia, his face a grim mask as he walked up to Carver and turned towards the fighting, his voice low. "Stay close to me for the rest of the battle, brother."

"Of course." Carver muttered back, eyes flicking to the archers...and seeing them once more draw back their bowstrings and let loose, this time more carefully, sending flights of arrows into the flanks of the rolling sea of darkspawn, as far away from the block of Ferelden steel as possible as to avoid friendly losses.

As before, it didn't seem to make any difference.

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_I can't believe it_...

Carver watched in shock as the block of the Fereldian infantry shrunk, leaving in its wake probably hundreds if not _thousands_ of Darkspawn...yet the sea of the beasts didn't seem smaller, the creatures simply trampling their fallen as they again and again hurled themselves to their deaths.

It was like watching the lapping water slowly erode a sand-castle...only with _far_ more serious repercussions.

_I_..._just_ _can't_ _believe_ _it_.

The arrows where still coming in, runners from the camp constantly bringing down more ammunition for the tiring archers to send down into the flanks of the horde...yet even that seemed like nothing more but a vain gesture. _How many __are__ there_!

Even with the chilly wind, Carver felt the hands around the grip to his sword sweat.

Ahead, another Ogre charged into the block of defenders. Yet _this_ time the soldiers reacted sluggishly, shields didn't meet the charge only to reluctantly give way to the side and let the men with two-handers hack its limbs apart until it fell. Instead it swiped at the tired soldiers at the front, sending three flying into the sea of Darkspawn, a brief churning around them signalling their end. Breaking further in, the Ogre jumped...and landed on a soldier carrying a banner into the ground that now had turned from a field of grass into wet mud...the man simply turned into a red mist, the banner disappearing as it was mangled into the ground.

Then a golden-armoured figure leapt forward...a swing of a massive blade...and the creature stumbled sideways, hands grasping at the blood welling from its left leg. A moment later more soldiers piled in, swarming over the creature like ants and bowling it over even as they again and again swung at it, destroying it utterly.

But the damage was done, even as Carver watched, _more_ Darkspawn poured into the breach, widening it in a frenzy of hacking blades as they finally broke through the wall of Ferelden discipline.

Genlocks were leaping onto the backs of soldiers already fighting, daggers punching through gaps in the soldiers' armour. Hurlocks were charging at men at the inside of the block that were supposed to be resting for their time at the front, tearing them apart and hacking at them even after they had fallen...

The defending block of Fereldians visibly cracked...then dissolved, the battle turning into a general melee, a chaos as each man and woman fought on their own, more to defend their own life than any overarching strategy.

_Maker, no_...

Carver stared at it, horrified, yet unable to look away.

"The beacon!" He wasn't sure who shouted it, all he knew was _hope_ as he turned his head to the left, staring with wide eyes at the sight of the tower atop the Ostagar fortress coming alight with a flame that could be seen miles around.

_Yes_! His head snapped round, and he sensed rather than saw everyone else stare at the hill to the left of the grassy plain where the battle still raged in earnest, staring after the first sign of Loghain's troops.

_Any moment now_...

Below, the battle continued, the monsters and humans nearly impossible to tell apart as they tore one another apart in a frenzy.

_Now_..._come_ _on_..._now_...

Nothing happened.

"Wha...what's going on?" Someone behind him muttered.

"Where's the charge?" Another echoed.

Carver only kept staring, his breathing quickening, _willing_ the reinforcement to arrive.

Nothing.

"Maker, we're doomed!" A third voice cried out.

Carver felt his heart sink, eyes slowly drifting to Garrett, the man's face a neutral mask as he eyed the hill, then the battle below, calculating, _thinking_, cold to the _tragedy_ of what was about to happen.

_I_..._Maker_...

Carver himself was lost for words, his wide eyes slowly drifting down to the battlefield, a battlefield slowly turning into a slaughtering ground as the exhausted humans were overwhelmed by the tireless horde.

Then Garrett turned to the men, face grim. "No, we're not."

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for all her help._


	3. Chapter 3

He didn't hesitate.

Garrett had planned what to do in case of a defeat. Carver might not like the idea, but Garrett had learnt father's lesson's well. You do not plan for victory, you plan for survival, you never go complacent, that's when you're caught, you don't take unneeded risks, you only have one life, friends and allies come and go, but you only have one family.

Of course it was difficult to plan such a thing since a battle was so unpredictable, but the important thing was to get Carver and himself to safety.

And there was safety in numbers.

As such he strode back away from the militia, his waving hands finally drawing the attention of the two captains of the archer detachment and making them reluctantly leave their men to meet him in the middle of the path.

Coming to a stop, Garret looked from left to right. The man to the left was giving him a scornful look, but the one to the right at least seemed neutral to him, if understandably stressed. Garrett didn't waste much time contemplating them though, there was precious little time. "Sers, we are about to lose." The man to the left growled something, but Garrett was faster. "You can both see it, soon the Darkspawn will have overwhelmed the king and his men, at which point we will be next. The path up to the camp is narrow, as such if you can supply covering shots for the militia we can then form ranks there and stop any Darkspawn pursuers as you follow us." Garrett found a nervous worm in his gut and glanced over the two's shoulders, painfully aware how the time was ticking away. "Please, let's-"

"Are you mad?" The man to the left snarled, shaking his head. "We cannot flee from the enemy of the Maker! And leave our king on the field? The last of the Theirin blood! Are you _mad_! That's _treason_!"

"There's already _been_ one treason today, no one will blame you for this." Garrett swiftly countered, trying to sound as diplomatic as he could. "Besides, the king is dead no matter what you do, you know this."

A slow shake of the man's head, voice low. "_Militia_...listen you little twerp, _real_ Fereldians don't retreat, and they _never_ leave their _king_ to die! I've sworn an oath and I'll be dead before I break it!"

"Yes you _will_. So see reason and don't throw your life away." Garrett countered, throwing the so far silent man to the right a glance, since Garrett by now realised he was the only one worth arguing with.

The man to the left stepped closer, his eyes narrowed, hands clenched tight to his sides as he hissed the words. "You know nothing of honour..."

And with that, he walked away, striding purposefully back to the ranks of his men, not looking back._ Honour is for those that can afford it_... Sighing Garrett turned to the other captain.

Who had a soft look on his face, the tiniest of smiles as he spoke. "I hate to say it after hearing that drivel, but...I can't break my oath either." _Oh for crying out loud_... ""'ve fought too long with our king to leave him to his fate...but...thank you for the offer." A tiny chuckle. "I'll tell the Maker of it, I hope..."

_That's that, then_. There was no more time to argue. Garrett reached out and shook the man's hand and offered a short. "Maker be with you." Then he whirled about and marched back to the men. _No help from the archers, that'll make the climb more diffi_-

A roar made him turn mid-stride, eyes widening as he saw two Ogres crash up through the slope, breaking through a palisade as if it was nothing but grass. Arrows were loosed at the creatures, but rather than them and the sharpened stakes protecting the archers funnelling the creatures down the centre it just enraged them, driving them straight towards the archers in great strides, the arrows resembling nothing but pinpricks on them as they pounded up the muddy slope.

_Move, move, move_! Turning back, Garrett gestured at the small path winding up the rocky outcrop atop which the royal camp lay, he found his voice rising in panic. "Up the path, _now_!"

"What? But we haven't even _fought_!" Carver interjected, eyes wide in shock. _Not_ _now_! Garrett scowled at his brother...and his mouth obediently slammed shut

The man next to him, Garrett wasn't sure who he was since he only remembered potential threats and aids for the family back in Lothering, the rest were unimportant, was not so easily deterred though, waving his torch dangerously close to the face of the man behind him as he exclaimed. "What! We can't! If we run, Lothering will fall! Our _families_ are there!"

Many shouted out their agreements, though their eyes were already wide with fright.

Another roar made Garrett turn back...and flinch as he saw the Ogre rushing the leftmost detachment stumble with pain, then fall forward, impaling itself on half a dozen stakes. The victory was short-lived though, as Genlocks and Hurlocks following started climbing it, using the corpse as a bridge to reach the archers now furiously shooting at the creatures to stop them from reaching them. It was clearly a losing battle...

To the right, the Fereldians had even less luck. The Ogre going for them slapped aside a dozen stakes as with a growl it rushed up...only to howl as the captain stepped forth and thrust his sword into its groin. The creature staggered...then grabbed the man struggling to free his weapon and crushed him in its claws before falling sideways, crushing another two men that weren't swift enough to step aside. Before the shock of the losses had even settled in, a swarm of Genlocks followed, the shrieking creatures throwing themselves at the shaken soldiers in a storm of flashing blades and grins of blood-lust.

"Lothering will fall either way! Run now and you may get your families out of there!" Garrett shouted, whirling back to face the men. "Now _move_!"

They hesitated.

_No time_!

Stepping forward, Garrett slammed his shield into the face of the man with the torch, making him drop it in a howl of pain and surprise. "_MOVE_!"

They moved.

Grabbing the back of Carver's shirt, Garrett hoisted the man to the front of the running men, forcing his brother to run or be knocked over while at the same time ensuring his shield was covering the frightfully weak armour of the man's back.

And not a second too soon as an arrow barely whizzed past the wooden protection the moment the group reached the foot of the narrow path leading up to the camp, a second whizzing...and then a moan as a man in the back fell over, clutching at a wooden shaft in his back. Two men were already moving to support him, making Garrett shout. "Leave him! We have to run!"

They didn't listen, grabbing him they hoisted him to his feet and started to run with him between them, a difficult task when the path was barely two man broad, and they were already lagging behind...

_Maybe they'll distract the pursuers_. Garrett hoped so, and worriedly turned his gaze further up...and regretted doing so the moment he saw the large number of Genlocks sport bows that had begun to pelt their position even as their twisted brethren completed the slaughter of the now surrounded archers.

Garret's gaze moved past the immediate threat...and he saw nothing but a frothing sea of Darkspawn, whatever humans were left impossible to spot.

_They're so many_...

Then an arrow whizzed past his face, making him gasp as it drew a red line across his cheek.

_Don't get complacent, survive, you only have one life, as do your family members_... The thought of the lesson made his legs pump faster, pushing Carver to run faster up the path, to just get _away_.

Behind him there was a gasp, then a cry as the man struck fell off the path and over the cliff, another simply gurgled as he died, the sound nearly lost in the sounds of arrows bouncing of the cliff the path was following ever upwards.

And then they reached the top.

Stumbling to a stop in surprise, Garrett looked about the colourful tents with wide eyes. As part of the militia he had never been up in this part of the camp, but he figured that going to the left and then left again would bring the group to the bridge they would have to cross, once over they would have to make for-

"Stop, in the name of the Maker!" Garrett's head snapped round, catching sight of a brunette in the robes of the Chantry coming towards them with her hands stretched out before her, though her words were calm, her big eyes betrayed her fear. "We have wounded in the camp!" She gestured behind herself even as she continued to move closer. "_Please_! You must take them with you and protect them!"

"There's no time!" Garret shouted back, gesturing at the path with his sword even as he gasped for breath. "They're right behind us! If you value your life you'll come with us!"

The woman's eyes flashed, her outstretched hands becoming more firm as the gestured at them to stop. "The Maker _sees_ you, fools! An act of compassion will be remembered for eternity, _as_ will one of selfishness! Save these poor souls or be forever condemned!"

"Then I'll be condemned." Garrett grimly retorted_. If the Maker is there he will understand, that family comes before all, especially those already doomed_. Still holding onto Carver he pushed the man to turn to the left stumbling down an old cobbled path where the colourful pavilions of the now dead nobles struggled under the growing rainstorm.

Looking back he saw the majority of the remaining men running with him...and half a dozen shaking their heads as they grimly turned towards the path they had come from, weapons at the ready as the priest began reciting an oath.

_Idiots_.

Focusing on his own path, Garrett pushed Carver under a broken old archway of stone, relief flooding him as he saw the bridge ahead of them. "There, with me!"

Behind him there was cries, roars...and then the sound of steel striking steel and the cry of a man being wounded as well as the shriek of a Genlock.

_They're right behind us_!

Releasing Carver, Garrett turned the shield to cover the man's face and upper torso as they ran over the bridge, all of the soldiers atop it now lying dead, either scorched by fireballs or struck by arrows, arrows _still_ raining over the bridge...

One arrow struck the shield just where Carver's face was, the impact too weak to penetrate the wood, making the missile drop to the floor._ Thank the Maker I put_-

_Pain_!

Garret stumbled, an arrow stuck in his shoulder, though the pain was just the throbbing of a bruise, the arrow apparently having punched through the armour but not the gambeson underneath.

Another man was not so lucky, his leather armour leaving a scrawny arm bare...which was now covered with blood as he breathed in short gasps while clutching at it while running...only for another arrow to strike him in the calf and send him to the floor with a loud cry.

This time, no one turned to help.

Then Garrett and Carver both stumbled as the bridge visibly shook, making an icy spike of fear shoot down Garrett's spine. The cries and the smell struck him a second later...and a glance back made him nearly retch before he had the sense to turn back to his running. The group had been reduced to a paltry eight, the rest were scorched, blown apart or still writhing in agony from the potent fireball that had struck their nearly unarmoured bodies and scorched their flesh of their bones.

To their left, the tower of Ishal still glowed brightly at the top, but Garrett saw no guards outside the gates, and even if there _were_, how long could a paltry few endure a siege while in a ruin without any supplies? _Get Bethany and mother, leave, that's the plan, __go_!

As such, Garrett continued to run forward, gesturing the others onwards.

A load roar made them all stop though.

Turning his head in confusion, Garrett looked to the top of the tower...and saw the roof being swept away, pieces raining down, as a _dragon_ mounted it. Staring in shock, he saw the creature breath a gout of flame into the tower, then reach down with its claws for something...

_Is that the Archdemon_? _Pictures of it suggests it to be covered with more horns_..._a 'regular' dragon_? _Why here_? Garrett's mind couldn't help but analyse the sight, if only to keep itself busy as he stared at the monster that was only the stuff of legends.

Reaching back, clutching something in each claw, the dragon took flight, screeching out what almost seemed an amused laugh as it effortlessly flew away, dodging a few fireballs hurled from the general direction of the Darkspawn forces with enviable grace.

"D-did you _see_ that!" Someone muttered, too stunned to shout out.

That awakened Garrett making him gesture forward as he shouted. "No time for that! Keep moving or be left behind!"

8

8

8

They had been running for _days_.

Garrett couldn't really think any more, there was not enough energy for it, he just kept moving, kept _them_ moving...in fact he wasn't sure _how_ many days had passed since the battle...the forest of the Korcari wilds made judging time difficult when you couldn't stop to take stock...hell, he wasn't even sure where they _were_.

_We have to lose them, get our bearings, get back to Lothering_...

The exhausted thought reached his mind, an imperative he had repeated to himself so many times before, using it to drive himself forward.

The group had been hounded every step of the way, wolves scenting blood came at them, giant spiders preyed on their panicked stumbling, and the Darkspawn, gleefully enjoying it, kept hunting the fractured reminders of the army.

They had stumbled upon other survivors a few times, men and women who hadn't said a word, simply joined them in their more and more desperate flight...only to slowly be whittled down as wolves came at them in the night or spiders swarmed the odd person getting stuck in their webs. The worst were the Genlocks, a single arrow suddenly whizzing through the trees to send someone howling to the ground...and then a frantic fleeing, constantly with the pained screams of the wounded soldier hounding them as the Genlocks pounced on him.

And now, when the attacks had gotten less frequent, the Shrieks had been unleashed. Garrett had never seen one yet, he had only heard them in the distance, those bone-chilling sounds that made you quake, that kept going as they hunted their prey...then the pained screams of someone caught, screams that lingered for so long...

_Don't think about it_...

Garrett moved a gauntleted hand over his face, it felt raw, the sweat covering it stinging like mad.

Yet he _couldn't_ stop thinking about it, not now when he had heard it just recently...and _close_...

_They'll kill us, they'll catch up with us and kill us_! 

He felt the panic rising, there was no time to plan, to formulate a strategy, it was only running, blindly trusting hope! It was _madness_! A quick glance told Garrett the other two were doing no better. Carver was breathing as heavily as him, the man clearly on the brink of exhaustion, the way he glared at everything telling Garrett his brother's nerves were on edge as well.

The other man was even worse. Actually. If Garrett remembered correctly he was the militiaman Garrett had struck with his shield back at Ostagar ...and by now he was trembling with exhaustion, dark rings under his eyes and his skin sickly pale as the flight drained all energy out of him.

_He won't make it_.

The thought struck Garrett, clear as day...and the man repeated it himself a moment later, his words coming out in pained gasps. "I won't...Maker...I'm going to die...they're right behind us now...they're going to catch us...and kill..._me_!"

Behind them there was a shriek, painful in its nearness, making Garrett grit his teeth as the sound bore into his limbs, turning them to lead. _They're so close_..._they're going to continue to hound us until they take us_..._as with the others_. _I have to lose them, get back to Lothering, get Bethany and mother out_...

He glanced at the man between him and Carver, grimacing at himself as he remembered his father's lesson. _Survival is everything, the family above all other_...

He didn't hesitate.

Drawing his dagger, Garrett stabbed the man in the hip.

He went down with a cry, clutching at the wound in shock as he rolled around on the ground, staring at the wound in wide-eyed disbelief.

Carver slowed down and turned in surprise...only for Garrett to grab him by the shoulder and push forward, his voice a hiss. "Keep moving! We have to keep moving!"

"Wha...how did...?" Carver glanced down at Garrett's bloodied dagger, his eyes widening. "Brother...you _didn't_...!"

"Yes, I did." Garrett shoved the man forward as hard as he could. "Now keep moving!"

Carver kept running, but his eyes flashed with hatred. "You monster! I can't believe you would...Tim's our friend!"

"Blood before friends, if you were _his_ brother he should have done the same to me." Garrett snapped, finding himself gasping as his exhausted lungs struggled to speak while he was running. "Now _run_!"

They ran.

And behind them Tim's screams hounded them as the Shrieks found him...

8

8

8

_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for her eager help._


	4. Chapter 4

"What should we do?"

Mother was nervous, Bethany could tell. Leandra's dark blue eyes were fixed on Bethany, the knitting forgotten in her lap, the slender fingers of her hands, that Bethany had inherited from her, drumming against her legs.

At first glance, however, it was hard to tell Bethany was her mother's daughter. Leandra was a short five and a half foot, while Bethany had her father's blood making her as tall as Garrett, and while Bethany had inherited Leandra's oval face, she lacked the high cheekbones of her mother that framed the growing signs of age around her eyes. Mother's grey hair had once been blonde, as such Bethany's dark hair was clearly from her father, as were the brown doe eyes and lush lips, something mother always crooned about, as if what Bethany had gotten at _birth_ was something to be _proud_ over...

Just like her cursed magic.

Bethany knew it was important to keep away from the central area of Lothering, that her magic made her and, by association, her family, a target. That was partly, though money also was a factor, why they lived in the outermost northern area of the village, with the boys working for that crude, but land-owning, man Barlin, while the women stayed at home.

It wasn't all that strange, many women worked at home, it was an important job even, while the men worked the farms. Yet Bethany knew that most women her age would at least get some lighter duty on the farms, get the chance to earn just a little more for the family, see some other girls her age...maybe some boys too.

Of course Bethany couldn't do that, she had to stay at home, study father's old tomes, learn to control her 'gift', the gift that had made the family move from one end of Ferelden to the next, that kept them constantly fearful of the Templars and made them hid her away like a precious gem in a den of thieves.

She could of course hide it, she was by now expert at appearing perfectly normal...yet she still was not allowed to go out, to mingle too much. It was partly out of a need to protect that would never fade from her brothers, a knowledge that only _one_ slip was enough to send them packing once more. Not to mention that, as her mother never stopped pointing out, she was such a _beauty_ that the men of the village would _flock_ to her...which was the _opposite_ of what they wanted if they wanted to keep her safe. As such most in Lothering probably didn't even knew she existed...

All because of her connection to the Fade.

_Damn my 'gifts'_...

Yet Leandra loved her for it, it reminded her of father she said...and of course, she couldn't tell Bethany the truth of what a pain it could sometimes be to them, unlike _some_.

_Carver_..._I hope you're okay_.

Biting her lip, Bethany continued her pacing across their small living room, the answer finally escaping her. "I...don't know."

It was frightening. They had seen torches in the distance, even from _their_ hovel, they had seen the torches of thousands of soldiers marching by, Leandra had heard it was Loghain's men...though the rumours about _why_ he was marching north were so many that guessing one way or the other was pointless.

Then...there had been strange things afoot. A few villagers had left, their houses emptied, as if they had heard something the others hadn't, some in the south were also gone...doors and windows ripped open, walls covered in blood. Secluded as they were, it had only been a day since Bethany and Leandra had heard of that, yet even they had noticed the odd shift in the _nature_.

Animals, bears, wolves, rabbits, foxes and even _birds_...all were going north, so many even Bethany staring out her window while bent over her father's tome, noticed.

And the grass...Bethany wasn't sure, but it seemed _browner_ than it was just a few days ago, in fact, _all_ plants seemed...not sick, for there was no sign of any diseases...but dying none the less. As if it was a draught, despite the rainstorm a few days ago...

It was all very...worrying.

And now there were talks of the king being dead, of the army defeated at Ostagar, of people having to _leave_ or ending up killed by the Darkspawn. Yet who could leave when they had family members in the army? Who could leave all they had based on rumours? Who _dared_ to leave when the roads, now bereft of the soldiers usually guarding them, were rife with bandits? Indecision hung like a cloud over Lothering.

And it was no different in the Hawke house.

_What would Garrett do_?

It wasn't the first time she had asked herself the question, and Bethany bit her lip as she looked over their home.

The living room doubled as a sleeping quarter for Garrett and Carver with their bunk-bed in one corner, the crudely axed table and chairs in the middle of the room taking up most of the rest of the space and being a place for both cutting vegetables and meat as well as eating their meals. To the left the kitchen was a tiny little room separated by the living room with a small curtain, only large enough to contain a battered old hearth and whoever was in there cooking what they had cut up in the living room. To the right was the study, a surprisingly large room that was her and mother's bedroom as well as containing the bookshelf of crumpled old books and parchments Garrett and father, when the man had been alive, had collected during their travels.

It wasn't much, but it was _home_.

Bethany knew the answer to her question though. If her brother had been there he would have packed up the necessities without casting the rest of their meagre belongings a look and then headed away from the village, leaving a note with instructions for the rest of the family to follow, prioritizing survival for those he had power over above all else.

Yet Bethany wasn't her brother, she just _couldn't_ up and leave while her two siblings were out there, struggling for their lives and probably heading home...she loved hem too much to abandon them like that.

She would soon _have_ to make a decision though, they couldn't just _sit_ there and wait for death like some panicking people seemed ready to do...Bethany threw her mother a worried look, the weight of responsibility heavy on her shoulders.

Mother was in charge when it came to the household, she was a strong and confident woman... But her apostate love Malcolm had always been stronger, more _decisive_, he had been the one in charge of everything else...and when he had succumbed to a Darkspawn attack, the first of many 'isolated events', seven years ago, Garrett had taken up the mantle as the man of the household, the one _in charge_.

Bethany had always admired her brother for how naturally he had taken up the burden. How at ease he had been in the role of protector and supporter, of how the responsibility of the family his father had entrusted him had fitted so well with him...yet that made his _absence_ all the more felt, the family was rudderless without him!

_Damn you Carver for dragging him into the war_! Bethany's thought was tinged with fear and worry as she stood there, weighing the options._ I really should pack our things and_-

The door crashed open.

"Brother!" Bethany's face lit up in joy and relief at the sight of her siblings, though was swiftly turned to fright as she saw the state they were in. "_Maker_, what _happened_ to you!"

Carver was the one answering the question, his gasped words filled with bitterness. "_Loghain_ happened. The vile, treacherous, little snake...if I get my hands on him..." At the moment, the man's wow rang hollow though. Bethany wasn't sure which brother was supporting the other as they stumbled further into the room, now helped by a white-faced Leandra guiding them towards the table, but judging by their pasty and sweaty faces, they were both on the brink of exhaustion. "...I'll gut him, I swear it!"

Carver's words were more of a pained gasp then a shout, and as such Garrett's tired grunt easily rose above it. "Mother, bread and much water, please." Leandra, now fussing over the two seated men, reluctantly pulled her hovering hands away from her sons to obey, her movements hurried and jerky with fear. Turning to look at Bethany, Garrett's eyes still had a hint of calm in them. "You're still here."

It was not an accusation, just an observation, yet Bethany found herself grimacing as she nodded. "Y-yes...I knew we should have fled and left a note...but I...couldn't."

Garrett smiled though, one of those tiny, special little smiles he rarely spared for anyone. "I'm glad you're here."

Then, a moment later, it was gone, the man's eyes lighting up as Leandra put two large cups in front of the men as well as a wooden plate with the largest loaf of bread the family had. The sparse meal came with the expected question though, a question trembling with worry. "I-is it true? D-did the Darkspawn win?"

"Yes." Was all Garrett managed before he joined Carver in grabbing his mug and gulping the water down like only an incredibly thirsty man could, cleaning some of the dirt off the armour Bethany only now noticed as some ran down his chest.

Despite having expected the answer, Bethany shivered, hands rubbing her shoulders as she looked out the window, as if expecting the Darkspawn at any moment. Her eyes narrowed at the view though, with all the greenery it was impossible to see the distant village, but...was there smoke rising over there?

"Maker..." Was all mother managed, the woman sitting down heavily on her chair, trembling hands closing around each other on the table.

"Me and Carver barely got out." Garrett managed the moment the empty mug hit the table, the man gesturing for his mother to refill it even as he continued to speak, words so hurried they nearly stumbled over one another. "Unfortunately we had to flee for a considerable distance and only got our bearings recently, we've lost days while the Darkspawn were drawing closer to Lothering. We're fortunate they took such time hunting the survivors of the battle or they would have overrun the place already..."

_I wouldn't call that fortunate_... Bethany shivered, eyes moving over Garrett's pale face, her heart skipping at the beat in fear at the sight of the small cut across his right cheek. "Maker, how-"

"I'll _tell_ you how! It was that bloody Loghain!" Carver interrupted, his words filled with anger, the man's hands so tight around his mug they threatened to shatter it. "If he had charged, the Darkspawn would have routed!"

"Regardless what would have happened, done is done." Garrett replied, some colour having returned to his cheeks as he took a large bite out of the loaf of bread, half of which Carver had already swallowed up. The moment he swallowed his piece, the man was speaking again. "What we now must focus on is survival, the Darkspawn will be here in mere _hours_, we must leave."

"Leave?" Mother asked, the woman blinking, a tear in her eye as she looked over their small, but warm, home. "Again...?"

"Yes." Garrett placed a hand on hers, drawing her gaze, holding it as he calmly spoke. "I'm sorry." A second passed...and then he was looking back up at Bethany. "We leave immediately, get as much distance between us and the Darkspawn as possible."

"B-but we have to pack _something_ before-"

"Already done." Garrett rose, Bethany noting with some worry how his legs wobbled a bit as he strode over to the bunk-bed in the corner. Bending down he pulled forth their four backpacks, all of them filled to the brink. _Oh_ _brother_... Bethany smiled as the man held up the four satchels, prepared as always.

Carver's face coloured pink though, the man frowning in displeasure. "You planned for us to lose...and having to run...?"

"No, I planned_ in case_ of that happening." Garrett corrected, shaking his head. "I didn't want this, but it can't be changed."

"So...we just pick them up and...leave? Head north?" Bethany asked, feeling as if she was falling as she looked around her home, the walls suddenly no longer as comforting as they used to be.

"No." Garrett unexpectedly replied. "_Everyone's_ going north, the road will be packed with refugees, among them Templars and people all too willing to find a scapegoat for their predicament." _Ah yes, my fault_... Garrett continued though. "Not to mention the road will be preyed upon by hordes of bandits seeing an easy target now that all the soldiers are away, and the Darkspawn will pursue such a large number of people on such an obvious route." A shake of his head. "And even _if_ we made it, where to? Redcliffe will swiftly be filled with people, how long can it hold out in the event of a siege if so many need feeding, and who will the Arl judge as worthless mouths? The Bannorn is emptied of soldiers to defend us too, most died at Ostagar, and Denerim is too far."

"So..._where_?" Leandra muttered, the woman looking distraught even as she stared at her son, worry for the safety of her children etched in her face.

"We go east, sidestepping the main horde and bandits." Garrett nodded to himself, a sign that he had put much thought into it. "Then we continue east until we find Gwaren."

"Gwaren?" Carver echoed, a sneer in his voice as he continued. "The home of that traitor Loghain, you want to find sanctuary _there_!"

"Gwaren has a well-manned fort, Loghain still has all his men, not to mention the town itself is easy to defend, so yes." Garrett calmly responded, apparently caring little that he wanted to seek protection with a man that so recently had left them to die. "Additionally it has a port, so we have a way out in case of the Darkspawn finding us."

"And...then what?" Bethany managed, a lump in her throat as she kept glancing at mother's stricken face, then to the walls of their home, soon to be kindle to the Darkspawn fires. "We don't have much in the way of savings, and you and I both know the Darkspawn have devoured nations before..."

"I'm not sure." Garrett admitted, sighing as he rubbed his temples, the empty eyes showing just how tired her was, as if the way he carefully sat down on the bed he would never again sleep in didn't make it clear enough. "We need more coin, and safety, Denerim maybe? As long as we can find a passable home, safety and some kind of job we can weather this storm, as we've always managed." He offered another tiny smile, though Bethany knew he was just trying to reassure the worried family members around him.

Silence.

Then Carver nodded, the colour from his cheeks having disappeared as he held his brother's gaze. "As you say, brother, I'm with you."

"Of course...I just don't like not having a final destination..." Bethany muttered, rubbing her shoulders as she eyed the walls around her._ We'll have to leave father's grave too_... The thought hurt more than she knew he would have wanted it to do.

Silence.

Then mother looked up, her blue eyes red from tears, but a brave smile on her face, her voice having an odd hint of positiveness in it. "We can go to Kirkwall."

"Kirkwall?" Bethany echoed, unable to help herself. "The...city with a Circle? A-and all the Templars...?" She shuddered, she had kept away from them as much as she could, yet even a _glimpse_ of that heavy plate armour the holy warriors wore made her heart beat faster in fright as she shivered with the thoughts of what they'd do to her if they found her...

"Kirkwall is a long way." Garrett noted. "And as Bethany mentioned, not ideal. Though I admit putting a sea between us and the Darkspawn _would_ make us safer."

"You forget, the Amell's is a noble family." Mother interjected, her voice holding that hint of pride it always did the few occasions she mentioned it. "It has the standing and money to not only keep us comfortable, but also keep Bethany out of any Templar clutches."

"Then why didn't we leave ages ago?" Carver blurted out, making Bethany shoot him an angry frown as Leandra flinched.

She collected herself swiftly though, looking down on her hands on the table as she slowly spoke. "Well...with your grandparents gone...there's no ban on me returning to the family, I suppose...not that I don't think they'd forgiven me by now..." There was a hint of hesitation in her voice, but she swiftly moved on. "Not that it matters, my brother Gamlen is there now, he didn't like Malcolm all that much...but that's no longer an issue, so he'll take us in, I just know it." The brave smile widened. "You'll love it, I promise."

"Sounds too good to be true." Carver once more blurted out the words.

This time Bethany shot him a glare. "Brother!"

To her surprise, Garrett's words broke in. "Carver's right, it _does_..." He hesitated, gaze drifting to mother, then Bethany, then out through the window, as if he could already _see_ the Darkspawn. "...yet the options we have in Ferelden are limited, and based on a lot that we cannot control. In Kirkwall we will at least have something to work with." A thoughtful frown. "It's a hard journey, but once we're there..." His gaze once more flicked to Bethany, then down to Leandra. "...okay mother, we'll go to Kirkwall."

Carver muttered something, but it was lost in the sound of mother's chair scrapping back as she rose and grabbed the backpack offered by Garrett. Moving around the table, Bethany took her own, feeling the mark of father's tome within it even as she met her brother's gaze, offering a trembling smile. _He looks so tired_...

Carver was the last to rise, and no wonder, the man's legs were visibly shaking as the adrenaline of their escape was wearing off, leaving him trembling with exhaustion. He didn't seem to care though, holding his head defiantly high as he pulled his own pack out of Garrett's hand and putting it on. _They need to rest_...

Mother echoed Bethany's thought, shaking her head. "We can wait an hour or so, let you boys regain your strength?"

"No time." Garrett rumbled, the man swiftly putting his backpack on as he got to his feet and met Carver's gaze, the worry in their eyes clear. "We have to keep going or we won't lose them."

"Great..." Carver muttered as he turned, though he didn't argue the decision. "...I'm going to be dead on my feet by the end of the day, aren't I?"

"Better dead on your feet than just plain dead." Garrett coldly replied as he swiftly stepped past the rest of the family getting a last look on their home, as Bethany knew he would.

No ceremony, no last glance backwards, just the door getting being pushed open.

"Follow me."

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for never giving up on me._


	5. Chapter 5

"Wait...wait..."

The pained gasp made Bethany breathe out a sigh of relief, her shoulders slumping as she slowed to a trot, then stumbled to a standstill. _Thank the Maker_. Breathing heavily, she rested her hands against her knees as she slowly felt the burning in her lungs subside. Back when they had been on the run she had been very young, but also surprisingly tough, but since they had settled down she had spent far more time studying or at needlework and far _less_ time wandering...and now she felt the effects of that.

Looking back she noted that she was not the only one suffering. Leandra looked poorly, the woman shaking as she slowly moved to rest against a boulder, eyes glazed with tiredness. _She's getting old_. Bethany grimaced. _I hate this, she shouldn't have to do all this running, not again_...

The one who had called out was Garrett though, the man looking as pale as a ghost as he sat down in the dirt, arms listless to his sides, eyes closing as he took deep breaths through his nose. The cut over his cheek had come open again, making dark blood trickle down over his jaw as dust clung to the heavy armour that by now, under a burning sun, had to be like a furnace to run in. Digging up a waterskin from his pack the man drank deeply, chest heaving with each gulp.

"What..." Carver grunted, the man trying, and failing, to look casual as he leaned against a tree, the teasing smile ruined by his heavy panting. "...slowing down...are you?" Grunting, he unsheathed his greatsword, placing the tip on the ground as he eyed the path they had come from, his tone changing to something terse. "I'll keep watch until you're done."

"We both have to rest...you know that..." Garrett coldly replied, the man anything _but_ cool considering the way he gripped at the collar of his armour and tried to make it a little more open.

The only answer was a weak shrug of Carver's shoulders as the man gazed back towards the horizon.

Bethany had a conflicted opinion of her twin. She loved him as her brother, even though he had teased her mercilessly back when they'd been younger, and even now and again _nowadays_...and she _knew_ he would defend her or any of the family to the death. Yet...he complained...a _lot_, and though it technically was nice that he was honest about what he thought annoying...it could get _tedious_...especially since he was so direct about it. It was strange to feel closer to the sibling that wasn't her twin...but it was the truth. When it came down to it Garrett shared her love of studies and was less hotheaded than his younger brother, a good trait when living in a cramped space with a woman needing to study.

"Maker...look at you." Bethany sighed and moved over to the man in question, crouching down in front of him and raising his head by gripping his chin. The tired brown eyes looking back at her blinked as Garrett stirred. "No, stay down." Putting a hand on her brother's chest to stop him from rising Bethany let it slide up towards his cheek as she closed her eyes, her lips moving in a whisper. "Life...breath...restore."

Bethany was a terrible healer.

Her father had told her to focus on what she had an aptitude for, fire and ice, for not only did it make her better at defending herself, but the greater control over the Fade would keep her from the clutches of demons. Yet healing was such a _useful_ talent in everyday life. When you tried to live an ordinary life the ability to throw fire was more of a burden than a boon...plus if she could heal she would feel less like an abomination in the making...

And Bethany had obeyed, her healing powers were now mostly down to the old use of herbs, bandages and needle and thread. But some ability still lingered within her...and the Fade was drawn to her whisper. The powers of it struggled, hesitant in unaccustomed hands, but coiled around the energy that was all around them, the energy in the grass, wilting but still alive, the insects and birds...it coiled around that energy and _drew_ it to her, towards her curved fingers...

A flicker of green energy in the palm of her hand...and Garrett's wound sealed shut.

Opening her eyes she found him frowning. "You shouldn't tire yourself out." He grabbed the hand over his cheek and pulled it down...only to grasp it with both of his as a flicker of a smile appeared on his lips. "But thank you."

"It's nothing." Bethany rose, trying not to feel the extra tiredness in her limbs. Magic was a strange thing, it wasn't really the _mage_ that did anything...she simply directed energies, or in the case of the evil blood-magic, demons, to do what she wished. Yet despite that, magic was tiring to do, in particular when doing something you were less practiced in, like training an unused muscle it left you aching within minutes. _At least I can throw fireballs for hours, though I hope don't have to_-

A screech

She whirled about, eyes wide even as Garrett scrambled to his feet and Carver turned around with a raised sword. Before them, Leandra simply stood there, eyes wide as she trembled, unable to turn and face the source of the sound.

They stood at the crest of a hill, a distant mountain framing them, making them look larger than they really were. They were looking down on the small family, milky eyes full of hatred, bodies quivering with the anticipation of killing.

_Darkspawn_.

Bethany had never seen one in real life, but Garrett had, since he loved to read about various subjects, once described them for her...and they were everything she had feared.

Their pale skin was mottled, their eyes a milky white, as if they had once been men, partly melted and resurrected into a sick parody of what they had once been. Their mouths were filled with sharply pointed fangs, drool dripping from between them as they regarded their prey. Their armour was crudely riveted together pieces of steel made all the more crude by the marks of rust, and if anything their weapons were even more crude, sheets of steel hammered until they formed axes or swords...

Axes and swords stained with _blood_, the blood of those that hadn't gotten away...

One of them took a step forward, raising his free hand...and holding up a horn of some animal and bringing it to its lipless mouth...

A resounding call came from the horn, deep and foreboding...and then the creatures hurled themselves down the slope, unable to contain their rage a moment longer.

"Bethany! Fireball!"

She hesitated at her brother's command even as he shouldered himself past her, grabbed mother by the collar and hoisted her back.

_They l-look like mutilated people_..._but __people__ n-none the less_...

She stared at them, seeing only hatred and death...and found her soul retreating deeper within her rapidly beating heart.

Garrett looked back at her, eyes flashing. "_Now_!"

Her body obeyed the command even as her mind looked on in shock. Stretching out her hands she once more called on the currents of the Fade, and this time drawing not a simmer of the illusive energy of life, but the _flood_ that was the warmth of the world around her. The air, her own thumping heart, the blaze deep within the earth...it coalesced into her hands, turning into a glowing ember, a _star_...

It hurled away from her before it could consume her hands, shooting straight and true towards the centre of the oncoming Darkspawn. The hurlock seeing the orb hurtle straight for it tried to jump down...but was too slow, instead being struck by it square in the face, sending charred pieces of it flying as the fire exploded outwards. The two next to it tumbled to the ground and made the hurlock just behind the struck one drop onto its knees with a horrible cry as it clawed at the ruined remains of its face and chest.

Jumping over one of the stricken comrades, one of the following hurlocks threw itself at Garrett, swinging hard against his outstretched shield...only to stumble forward as he pulled it back, making it hit nothing but air.

A moment later the man's sword was in its throat, spraying dark blood over the ground...only for him to gasp as he was knocked onto his back, the dying creatures return swing having drawn a silvery gash across his armoured abdomen.

Another came at the bowled over man, knocking its dying brethren aside mid-stride... Only for Carver, who had just impaled another impetuous Darkspawn on his blade, to thwirl around, his greatsword cleaving through the air...and then the creature's neck, making the headless creature drop onto its back with a heavy thump.

A flash of movement drew Bethany from the sight though, finding a hurlock running right past the men, straight for _mother_...

_No_.

She cried out, no words, simply anger...and the chill from the sky above and the shadows formed frost in her hands...that she threw out.

The Darkspawn slowed, its left leg turning a cold blue by the impact of magic as it hissed with agony, yet it continued towards the woman that just _stood_ there, staring at the horrifying creature...

Then Garrett crashed into it, shield clashing into its side and slamming it into the tree Carver so recently had rested against. With a hiss the creature spun at him, sword swinging at his face...only to hit nothing but air as the man with a growl ducked...and then brought his shield up as he rose, the hard rim breaking the creature's jaw with a loud crack. Coughing blood, the hurlock swung its blade back...only for Garrett to parry it with his sword, holding it fast...and then slamming his shield upwards and against the creature's elbow...that with a snap gave in, making it drop its weapon as the forearm twisted into the wrong angle.

The creature was hatred incarnate though, and despite its broken jaw it lunged forward, ready to sink its teeth into Garret's face...only to bite into the rim of his shield. Garrett hissed at it as he pushed the shield upwards...up until the creature's head was pressing up against the trunk of the tree.

A flash of his blade...and the creature sighed its last breath as its insides spilled forth from its abdomen.

Snarling, Garrett pushed the broken Darkspawn aside...and then rushed to stand in front of Leandra, tossing the shield aside as with a worried gaze he placed a hand on her shoulder. "Mother, are you okay...?"

Bethany didn't even hear her mother's reply, instead she felt her shoulders slump as she stared over the carnage. _It's_ _over_? The Darkspawn bodies lay strewn over the ground, so few Bethany knew that the fight had barely qualified as a skirmish, yet a cruel testament to what the family had lost, and what they were fighting to _preserve_. _It was all so_..._fast_.

"It's over..." Turning back to her brother, Bethany found the man holding Leandra, the way the woman's shoulders shook telling Bethany their mother was crying. "Hush, hush...it's over..." Garrett was muttering the words, his free hand running down his mother's hair as the other held the bloodied sword away from her.

In the distance there was an echoing call, the call of a horn...

Carver, tossing a now bloodied rag away from his cleaned blade, looked up with a sigh towards the sound, one eyebrow raised. "Sounds to me as if the Darkspawn disagree..."

Garrett pushed his mother aside, the warmth in his voice gone as he eyed the horizon, as if able to _see_ the source of the sound...then he turned about, gaze drifting to the mountain in the distance. "We can lose them over there. You always climbed that when you were younger, Carver, you can guide us."

"I can." Carver responded, sheathing his sword as he eyed the mountain, than the way they came from. "You think we have enough time though?"

"We must have." Garrett growled as he picked up his shield and gestured at the mountain. "Now keep moving, and don't stop, no matter what!"

Immediately picking up the pace into a brisk jog, Bethany felt the exhaustion immediately returning and sighed.

_So much for that break_...

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for putting up with me._


	6. Chapter 6

_Don't_ _panic_.

It was a command Garrett was having more and more trouble obeying. He was exhausted, his nerves were frayed and his plan was mediocre and relied more on chance than planning. Father had often said that sometimes there was no time to plan, that sometimes you simply had to leap...Garrett had never liked that lesson, especially when the stakes were so high...

He turned his head as he moved, glancing at his family. Just as him they were struggling to keep up the pace, all of them sweaty, dusty and trembling with exhaustion. The thought of them failing, of Darkspawn blades descending upon them...for a brief moment he couldn't breathe.

"_Look after them_..." Father's words, whispered on his deathbed, still rang clear within Garrett's mind though. "..._you're the eldest, the one they look to, they need you_..._keep them safe_." Nor had he forgotten the look in his father's dying eyes, that earnest, _begging_, look.

"_I_ _swear it_." He hadn't hesitated in giving his oath._ And I will __never__ break it_.

Growling, Garrett found new energy flooding his legs, making him push up the final steps of the slope, his body painfully heavy.

Carver had guided them well across the mountain, as Garrett knew he would. Additionally, the two of them had stopped quite a few pursuers by knocking boulders down the slopes they had come from. Not to mention that making Bethany freeze the more strenuous climbs into icy slopes had been a perfect move, it might have made her more tired, but turning a difficult climb into an impossible one had forced their pursuers to take long detours until they now had completely lost their prey.

Or so Garrett hoped.

Hopes dashed as he looked up from his shaky legs and over the ground ahead of them.

The ground move down in a steep slope, the large formations of rocks on each side creating a tunnel, funnelling the family towards the grassy field ahead.

A field stained by blood.

Two dead horses lay in the centre of the field, the cart they were still harnessed to nothing more then a blackened skeleton of a cart, what little that hadn't been burnt having been broken and hacked apart. Around the field soldiers and Darkspawn lay, strewn about like broken toys, staining the dying grass black with their blood.

Near the broken wagon two soldiers fought on though, surrounded by a multitude of Darkspawn that clawed at one another to reach their final foes, some of them even having gone round and started climbing the remains of the wagon to reach their targets.

One of the soldiers was visibly struggling to remain upright, left arm held close to a smudged breastplate as the right sluggishly parried blows left and right. The other was more agile, a blood-covered shield slashing at the Darkspawn as much as the sword, keeping the creatures at bay through the sheer energy of the defence.

More importantly, they were right in the family's way.

_Dammit_!

Garrett glanced to the two walls of cliffs to each side. _Maybe climb them_? _Would it take too long_? _Where would it lead_? _Would it even help_?_ And if we're up there_..._won't_ _our_ _pursuers_ _spot_ _us_?

"Look there! We have to help them!" Bethany gasped, the woman pointing at the fight with her staff as she rested a hand on a rock.

Carver's response was drawing his blade, eager gaze moving to Garrett, as did Leandra's, a silent prayer on her lips.

Garrett ignored them. Carver's lust for revenge he could understand, the boy was simply that way, proud. He couldn't understand Bethany when it came to this though, always ready to stretch out a helping hand to their fellow man, even though most fellow men would _gladly_ sell her out to the Chantry for nothing but a warm meal...it was foolishness, and Garrett would have no part in it.

Instead he looked back. _Could we double back a bit_? _Try a different route_? _Is there time_? A grinding sound told him he was clenching his fist in frustration even as he considered his options. _There's no way to know_! _I can't just take a chance and_-

A screech mad him whirl back, an oath on his lips. _Too late_!

One of the hurlocks assailing the soldiers had spotted the ones on the hill and called out a warning...and now more were turning to the new threat. "Bethany! Fireball at the cluster!" Garrett drew his blade and shield as he started jogging down, uncomfortably aware of the weight of the equipment in his tired hands. Sensing his sister's hesitation, that with the humans within that cluster, he raised his voice into an angry yell. "_Now_!"

The orb of fire shot past his head a moment later, impacting with the great melee in a brutal blast. Fortunately for Bethany's conscience, the press of bodies of Darkspawn largely protected the central humans from the blast, instead it showered them with charred pieces of the blighted creatures as those closest to them stumbled forward with the force of the blast...and instantly being finished by the blades of the two defenders.

Some of the beasts had escaped the blast, in particular the few that had already begun charging at the two Hawke brothers...

Crashing shield-first into a genlock, Garrett sent the monster to the ground, only to find his following thrust parried by the creature as it slammed a foot into his midsection. Grunting, he stumbled back, his weariness nearly sending him to the ground himself. Instead he sidestepped the sweep of the hurlock catching up with the now rising genlock, the air parted by the swinging blade brushing against Garrett's face as he took another stumbling step backwards.

_These are not the wounded creatures we finished off in the wake of the army_! Garrett stepped left, then right, keeping the swinging hurlock at a distance as well as between him and the grinning genlock. Panic was welling up in his aching body, but his mind refused to budge, grasping at the knowledge from before the battle. _Drill-sergeant said strong but stupid, aggression defines them, they attack strongly, but defend_..._poorly_!

Stepping forward with new confidence, Garrett slammed his shield into the creature, knocking it back a step and stopping its backhanded slash. With a growl it simply launched forth once more, repeating the swing...and hitting only air as Garrett ducked and thrust his sword forward.

Resistance, a crunch...and blood stained his blade even as he stumbled back, the weight of the falling creature nearly knocking him over.

_Whew, almost_-

With a hiss, the genlock knocked him over, its body pressing down on his shield, foot pushing his sword into the ground as it grinned down on him, dagger poised, dark liquid dripping from it...

_No_!

Garrett kicked high, the armoured boot hitting the creature in the temple with a loud crack.

The creature gasped, stumbled a few steps away from him while clutching at its face...and then fell to the ground, dead.

_Too_ _close_... Garrett sighed, reality was nothing like the tales in the old books he sometimes allowed himself to read; limbs got tired, weapons heavy, and the sweat stung even where there were not cuts...and Garrett was no Carver, he could not find any solace in things like 'honour' or 'achievement' in the killing.

Groaning, he forced himself to stand, to take stock.

Carver was breathing heavily, the man's blade still deep in the gut of a genlock.

Bethany and Leandra were coming down from the hill, both paler than before, the former due to the extra energy expended to summon magic, the later simply by shock. Both eyed the two strangers though, making Garrett's eyes draw to them as well.

For a moment there was silence, the two exhausted groups regarding one another.

The one at the front of the couple was the woman, her crimson stained shield and sword lowered, but not sheeted. Her fiery hair, held back by a leather band, stood in stark contrast to the steady green eyes, eyes drifting to regard Garrett as she concluded who was the leader of those confronting her. She was wearing a sleeveless tunic reinforced by leather, protecting most of her torso while leaving her muscular arms free. She also seemed familiar...

Garrett's gaze swiftly moved to the other warrior though. The man was swaying where he stood, left hand still close to his chest even as the right pointed his sword at Bethany. His dark hair was slick with blood from a nasty cut along the top of his head, and his hands were a sickly white, yet he stood there, pointing his weapon at Garrett's _sister_. "Apostate." The growl was harsh, angry...and only _then_ did Garrett manage to pick out the mark on the man's dented and blood-covered breastplate. _Templar_...

A moment later he and Carver stood between Bethany and the warrior, weapons raised to fight once more, Garrett's eyes narrowing into slits as his blood pumped with anger, voice a hiss. "Touch her and _die_."

"There's no need for that." The ginger woman replied, a commanding tone rising in her voice even as she turned her head to the man. "Wesley, not now."

"O..." The Templar blinked, taking a stumbling step backwards. "...o-of course..." He fell, head thumping hard into the wagon as his blade harmlessly rolled away.

"Wesley!" A moment later the woman's weapons joined his as she dropped down beside him, hands frantically moving over his body, not doing anything but making sure that he was there. "W-what are you doing? We have to keep moving!"

"Y-you know that won't happen..." The man wheezed, head lolling as the white eyes tried to focus on her. "You s-saw it happen...all that blood in the wound..._this_..." His hand meekly moved up, pointing at his eyes, then drawing down the side of his face, a face Garrett now noticed was sickly pale, dark veins clearly visibly beneath it.

"Blight sickness." He muttered the words, hand coming up to stop Carver moving closer, it wasn't contagious as far as Garrett knew, but he wouldn't take any chances. "We saw that with some of the wounded at Ostagar."

"I...I..." The ginger woman was shaking her head, but didn't protest more than that, unable to deny what her own eyes were seeing.

"It...hurts..." Wesley wheezed, his voice weaker. "Aveline...I..."

"Don't..." The woman visibly trembled, a hand coming down to pick up the Templar's, helping it up to her cheek. "I'll..."Another shudder. "Dammit...I'll always...I..."

A pale smile on the Templar's lips. "I know, and I love you too." A smile turning into a pained grimace and a gasp. "Maker! It..._please_..."

"You can't ask it of me..." The woman muttered, but there was no fight in the words.

"You did it for...the others..."

"They weren't you!" The woman snapped, dropping the Templars hand, her shoulders shaking with tension.

"All...the more reason..." The blighted eyes were dull, yet the smile was genuine as the man tried to reach up to her again, only for his hand to drop back. "...for you to help me..."

Shaking his head Garrett forced himself out of the spell of the scene, annoyed with himself for letting the two waste time when the Darkspawn could very well be closing in on them as they spoke. "He's your family, your responsibility, but we have to move, _now_."

"I...yes." The woman didn't turn even a glance at him, her eyes fixed on the dying Templar even as she drew a long and tapering dagger from her boot. "This'll be quick...I...it's all I can do." He voice cracked even as she moved to press the tip of the blade against the armpit of the man, just above the crease of his breastplate.

Wesley's hand moved up, finally reaching the woman's cheek, holding it with a smile.

Then it fell, dead as the dagger pushed past his ribs and into his chest.

Instantly the woman backed away, leaving nothing but the hilt of the dagger still showing as she stumbled away from the dead Templar, eyes wide as she stared at her hands, as if unable to believe what she had done.

"You did the right thing..." Bethany murmured, though the tone was comforting, the words sounded hollow at the sight of the dead man.

Garrett sighed, he couldn't even _imagine_ the pain of killing a member of your own family...even if it was out of mercy, it held little comfort. "You did your duty to him, now is the time to continue that duty, die here and his efforts will have been for naught."

Instantly, the woman stiffened, head whirling round to regard him with a flash of anger in her teary green eyes. Garrett met the gaze, frowning in irritation at the delay. _She's capable, which means she could be useful, but any more time wasted and we'll leave her behind_. Then, to his surprise, the anger faded, the still puffy eyes calming as she straightened, tone calm. "You're right, we need to leave, I am Aveline Vallen...and you strike me as familiar...Ostagar? I..._was_ the captain of the archers on the bridge." She gestured at the dead around them. "As you can see the Darkspawn finally caught up with us."

"Garrett Hawke, formerly captain of the Lothering militia." Garrett swiftly took the woman's hand and shook it, not at all surprised at the strength of her grip. "We are heading east, to Gwaren."

"As were we, a sound plan." Aveline nodded, though her shoulders still shook with grief, there was little other signs of it as she regarded her. "We should keep moving, strength in numbers."

"Agreed." Garrett replied, pulling back his hand. "Though I'd rather avoid more Darkspawn forces."

"Agreed." Aveline echoed with a nod, ducking down to grab her weapons again, eyes only drifting to the dead Templar for a second. "If we keep to the smaller roads and-"

A bark made their heads turn.

Finding his eyes widen and an actual _smile_ appear on his lips, Garrett went down to one knee as he regarded the furry thing running towards them. "Maric!"

He hadn't thought he'd see the dog again, neither had the Mabari when he had sent it away during the retreat to draw off a large contingent of their pursuers...yet Maric had willingly parted, knowing as his master the value of protecting the family at all costs.

Yet somehow, he had found them again.

In a cloud of dust Maric slid to a halt in front of Garrett, the dog sitting down on his haunches even as he panted heavily, ears clipped back, gaze attentive.

Garrett couldn't help but reach out and rub the back of the Mabari's ear, but he kept his tone professional, there was little time after all. "Did you lose the pursuers?"

A confirming bark was the response, but the ears remained clipped back, a tension in the dog's body.

"There are more nearby."

A slight whine, the dog glancing back, the eyes turning fearful.

"Many?"

Another whine.

"How near...?"

The only answer was Maric glancing at the ground, or more specifically, a pebble. Following the Mabari's gaze, Garrett saw it moving, vibrating...

Eyes widening, Garrett got to his feet and turned to regard the others. For some reason Carver was pouting as he regarded the dog, Bethany and Leandra were looking at him though, frowning in worry at whatever they saw. As to Aveline...she glanced at the other women, then Garrett...and sighed as she rolled her neck, the grip on her blade tightening.

_No, we're too tired, and if something able to cause rocks to shift is coming_... Garrett felt fear grip his heart, but he knew the truth of it. "All of you, go up the cliffs and hide, then east when the dust has settled, with any luck the creatures will have moved on." He turned to face the path Maric had come from, feeling more exhausted than ever as he struggled to stay calm.

"To hell with that! I'm staying!" Carver snapped, the defiant tone that of when the man would refuse to budge, no matter how much logic was thrown in his face.

_Carver_, _you_ _damn_..._good_ _brother_. The affection allayed some of the anger in his tone, but still couldn't stop him from snapping. "Go, you fool!"

Bethany was the one answer, a low, curt, mutter. "No, brother..."

_Now_, the anger lit up, alongside _panic_. Whirling about, Garrett glared at his siblings, even his mother with her arms crossed over her chest, his tone rising as he felt as if his heart was being squeezed in a vice. "Dammit, I said _go_! You will obey me and _go_! You will _not_ die here you stupid-!"

A roar...and Garrett turned around in time to duck under a boulder flying straight for him, the rock crashing into the cliffs behind him with a resounding boom.

The ogre was massive, a hulking creature of muscle and bone, bent on nothing but destruction. White, nearly a pale blue, eyes glaring out at the world, as if everything within it enraged the monster. Eyes now moving to Garrett, eyes alight with hunger, knowing its meal was at hand.

Garrett knew it too.

"I said _run_!" He ran forward, shield held high, a senseless scream coming out of his mouth as he squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to see his doom as he attempted his desperate gambit. _Father, I tried_..._now it's up to them to_-

Then he was breathing dust, coughing as he rolled over the ground, only to come to a stop as he impacted with one of the corpses littering the ground. In the distance he could hear a weak cry... _Wha_...?

_Pain_!

Gasping, Garrett's eyes flew open, making him realise he was on his back, weapons miraculously still in his hands as he stared up at the Ogre that had swatted him aside like an annoying bug. It was approaching him, growling...only to grunt as Maric came flying, the Mabari's teeth sinking into the ogre's wrist.

Another grunt...and the ogre swung the fist, hurling the dog aside...only for a fireball to strike the creature in the head, making it stumble sideways with nothing but a growl of annoyance.

_Get_..._up_...

Gasping, Garrett slowly struggled to rise, his body aching, pain raking it, making him wonder if he had broken something.

Ahead, Carver ran at the distracted creature, greatsword cutting a wound across its thigh before he was forced to jump away as it swiped at him. "Get away from my brother you ungodly monster!"

_Stupid_..._family_...

Garrett stumbled to his feet, panic giving him enough energy to lift his sword once more, blood sealing his left eye shut as it poured from a cut across the brow, the right narrowed at the beast though. _Don't_..._you_ _touch_ _them_...

The creature didn't heed his mental command, instead it pursued Carver, its swinging fists making the man jump backwards even as they broke apart the ground and pounded the corpses littering the ground into pulp.

"Here!" Aveline darted forward, sword cutting a minimal wound in the creature's calf before she retreated, sword banging on her shield, making the monstrous beast turn its angry eyes upon her.

A roar...and it suddenly sprang forward, leaping through the air with surprising agility, fists coming down just in front of the woman as she jumped back, then stumbled further back with the tremor of the impact. The ogre was already swinging at her though...and with no time to dodge, Aveline crouched down close to her shield.

A crash...and the woman flew backwards, grunting, crying out as she bounced over the ground, sword and shield flying away before she finally slid to a stop, lying on her side and struggling to rise, to fight the beast already pounding forward, foot drawn back to kick...

Only for a beam of frosty whiteness to strike it, turning its right shoulder blue and icy.

Without breaking stride, the ogre changed course, charge turning towards a wide-eyed Bethany even as Leandra moved to stand before her, as if she could somehow stop her daughter from being trampled by standing there and dooming herself.

_NO_!

Garrett spurted forward, something in his leg tearing with the sudden movement, making him cry out even as he slammed shield first into the outer side of the ogre's right knee.

With a growl, the creature found its knee giving, stopping its charge flat. Garrett only saw its chest though, a chest where its black heart should be. He thrust...and found himself hitting nothing but air as the creature with surprising speed reached out, left hand picking him up, raising him up, _squeezing_...

Gasping, Garrett found his shield dropping from limp fingers even as he struggled to hold onto his sword, the blade weakly hacking at the wrist that might as well have been made of iron. The vice of the ogre's hand was closing ever tighter, making armour buckle and ribs crack as all air left Garrett's lungs, making dark spots dance before his vision.

Dark spots growing, turning into a warm, soothing blanket...

Silence.

Darkness

Then the world returned. Gasping in a lungful of air, Garret found the grip of the ogre slackening as Aveline bore her sword into its forearm. On the back of the kneeling creature Maric had also appeared, the Mabari's fangs biting deep into its shoulder, making dark blood pour over its chest...blood turning to frost as Bethany once more lashed out at it.

The ogre growled in annoyance...then gasped as a blur turning into Carver appeared on its blood-covered chest, the man crying out as he with both hands drover his greatsword into the beast's torso.

Again, the beast growled, but this time weaker, the monster swaying as it lolled its head towards Garrett with its mouth opening...

_Die_!

Thrusting out, Garrett stuck his sword into the mouth of the monster, the tip pushing through the roof of the mouth, upwards, into its skull.

A shower of dark blood poured out of the mouth, the beast's eyes widening in shock, then slowly blinking, mouth moving, maybe trying to bite down, maybe to say something...yet there was nothing but more blood.

Grunting, Garrett pulled his blade free.

And then fell to the ground as the ogre released him, the others also dropping down and rolling away as the ogre fell backwards, blood bubbling from its mouth.

Silence.

Garrett held back a moan as he rolled onto his knees, his every bone aching with pain as he rested his hands on the pommel of his sword, the only thing keeping unconsciousness back being the pain. All he saw was the grass before his knees, stained black by blood, his own or the ogre's, he couldn't tell.

Then a pair of familiar boots appeared in his vision. Looking up, he found Carver grinning down at him, the tiredness plain in his eyes, yet mischief in them as well, mischief and _pride_. "Damn it brother, you stole my kill."

A cough that was supposed to be a laugh escaped Garrett, his own lips twisting, though his grin was coloured more by relief than any sense of satisfaction. "My...apologies..." He reached up.

And Carver grabbed him by the wrist, helping him up.

Silence.

Just the two staring there, sharing a grin among the devastation.

Then Maric whined.

Turning their heads, the two saw dark shapes appear from where the ogre had come from.

The shapes of more Darkspawn...

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for enduring me._


	7. Chapter 7

_Fuck_.

Carver was stubborn, he knew that, he also knew he didn't go down easily, but even _he_ could see where things were heading.

He was so _tired_...he didn't even have the energy to hide it any more. Leaning heavily on his greatsword, he let his weary gaze travel over the group and then the beasts, a strange calm descending upon him.

Leandra, having never held a sword in her life, was nervously fiddling with her fingers, not knowing what to do and so trusting her hope to her children. Children no longer able to protect her...

_I'm sorry mother_...

Bethany was leaning on her staff, nearly hugging it as she swayed back and forth, too exhausted to cast even a single spell, her eyes looking to Garrett, foolishly hoping for some miracle.

_We protected you for years from the Templars_..._and now you'll die at the hands of Darkspawn_..._maybe it would have been best to simply let you go to the Circle after all_...

At the front of the group Garret stood alongside the Aveline woman. The ginger haired warrior had shield and sword ready, something bitter in her stance, a steadfastness, a determination not to go down easily.

_She looks proud_..._guess I should be too, we got this far_..._not many can say the same_..._woho_...

Garrett was a pitiful sight in comparison. His armour was cracked all over his torso from the ogre's grip, his sword notched and almost dull from the use it had seen during their long flight. He himself was in no better shape, his breathing still ragged from his injuries while he was clearly favouring his right leg. Yet he still stood at the front with Aveline, shield and sword ready, though the way he looked at the approaching horde left little hope.

_You were right, as you always are, we should have run_...

The dog at his side didn't look much better, the mutt's back covered in sticky blood from the impact when the ogre had thrown it, yet it somehow stood there, matching its master's stance, ready to fight to the last.

_Well I won't be any worse_...

Grunting, Carver forced his blade free and slowly moved forward, gaze turning to his doom.

He swallowed, for all his bravery, for all his thirst for recognition and honour...he didn't want to die.

He could see the monsters clearly now, a multitude of creatures, clawing at one another even as they moved closer. A mass of darkness where there were no individuals, only evil, only hatred...only _hunger_.

_I won't be an easy meal_... Growling, Carver raised his blade and moved forward.

Aveline and Garrett turned, looking back at the source of the growl, eyes widening.

_Huh_...? Carver stopped.

And found the growl continuing, louder, deep and..._inhuman_.

Carver turned as well, gaze moving up over the cliffs behind them, up to the top, to the source of the sound.

There was no mistaking a dragon, the massive creature's long neck crooked as it gazed down from its vantage-point on the humans and Darkspawn as if they were nothing but ants. The leathery wings were first pulled close to its sinuous body, then pushed out wide, blotting out the scorching sun with its massive size.

_Oh_.

Carver could only stare, frozen to the ground, as the creature lazily leapt off the mountain, then gracefully swooped down, its great jaws opening, revealing long fangs.

As well as a growing flame...

_Ohhhh_...

"Get down!" The world became a blur, then stopped with a crunch and a flash of pain as Garrett's words reached Carver's stupefied mind even as the man tackled his brother to the ground.

Grunting, Carver looked down to find Garrett already struggling to rise, looking over at the...

_Ohhhh_...

Carver instantly forgot his annoyance with the tackle as he stared at the gout of flame now disappearing from the dragon's mouth as it gracefully arched upwards. The ground where the Darkspawn had been was now nothing but tree-high flames and dark shapes turning smaller and smaller as the creatures within were turned to ash.

In mere moments, however, the flames started to die, revealing a throng of Darkspawn stumbling over one another in confusion, corralled into a small area, their milky eyes following the dragon as it swung round, then arched down at them like a falcon spotting its prey.

The very ground heaved, making Carver fly to his feet, away from the horrifying sight of the dragon landing.

With an earth-shattering crash, the dragon landed on all fours, the claws digging into the ground to slow it as it slid forward. The surviving Darkspawn turned into nothing but gory pieces beneath those claws, a single unlucky creature was caught in the maw of the monster...and then split in half as the dragon bit down, sending the halves to the ground in a shower of blood.

Staring at the beast, Carver blindly reached for his greatsword. _Yeah_..._no_ _easy_ _meal_..._erm_... He stared at the dragon's yellow eyes, eyes as large as his _fist_..and quaked. _Y-yeah_..._th-this w-will be f-fun_...

With something almost resembling a sly grin, a grin from which blood still poured, the dragon crooked it's neck, gaze moving to the limping figure heading towards it.

Garrett had dropped his sword on the ground, and now placed his free hand on Aveline's shoulder, slowly pushing her backwards and making her reluctantly lower her weapons. Holding the beast's gaze, Garrett dropped rather than sunk, to one knee and dropped his shield before holding up his free hands. His voice was a croak, and tense with fear. "Can you understand me? We wish you no harm...see?" He pointed at the dropped shield, not taking his eyes off the dragon for a moment. "No harm..."

_Yeah, __that'll__ work_...

To Carver's surprise though, the dragon's head shot back, something almost resembling a _laugh_ escaping it...

Then lights swirled around it, ash from burnt Darkspawn whirling up, concealing the great beast in a miniature tornado of light and darkness.

Then, mere moments later, it stopped.

The lights died.

The ash fell to the ground once more.

And an old woman stood before them.

She wore a baggy dress that was spotty and full of patches, something only an elf or a beggar would wear. Her hair was a solid grey, hanging limply at the sides of a wrinkly old face, a face lined with laughter as she kept her head tossed back, giving voice to her amusement.

Carver glanced to the side, finding Bethany there, and she looking back at him, eyebrow raised in a silent question. _What_ _the_...?

Then the laughter turned into a chuckle, the old woman turning her face towards Garrett and opening her eyes, revealing yellow irises that were so bright they almost seemed to _glow_ as she fixed them upon the man. Her voice had a rough texture to it, speaking of age, and _power_. "Soft words soothe the beast, hmmm? Fancy yourself a clever one?"

"I...err..." Garrett hesitated, slowly struggling to stand. "...did not expect that."

"Most don't." The woman replied, some of her mirth disappearing as her gaze moved over to Bethany, Carver's sister visibly shrinking under the gaze. "Though I'm not surprised you are less shocked than most...another apostate, hmmm? How curious..."

_Maker, I hate magic_... Carver shivered even as Aveline took a bold step forward, coming up next to Garrett. "You're the witch of the wilds, aren't you?"

"_The_? You presume there is only one?" A mirthless chuckle escaped the old woman as she looked at Aveline, the woman straightening slightly under the scrutiny, as if unwilling to back down. Which was almost amusing considering how small the old woman was in comparison to her. "But I suppose you're referring to Flemeth?" _Dear Maker, Flemeth_! "How dreary names are...but yes, I am she." The woman cocked her head to the side, smirking. "Does that...frighten you?"

Aveline visibly bristled, her mouth opening...only for Garrett to put a hand on her shoulder, speaking fast. "_Most_ would be frightened by someone able to turn into a dragon, I, however, don't think you're here to kill us, and we won't give you any reason to."

"Is that so?" The woman smirked, a dangerous smirk, as she turned her gaze upon the man, taking in his cracked armour and visible injuries in a glance. "And who are you, to come with such a bold statement?"

"Hawke, Garrett Hawke." Was the calm reply, somewhat ruined by a pained cough at the end.

"Ah, and what, Garrett _Hawke_..." Flemeth seemed to taste the name...rolling it with her tongue. "...makes you so certain I won't kill you?" Flemeth's smirk widened as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"For one, you could have done that easily as a dragon, in your first sweep, in fact." Garrett responded, the man not taking his hand off Aveline's shoulder as he used her as a support. "Second, you not only _saved_ us, but you're down here _talking_ to us, and if the legends of you are true I do not believe you stop to chat with people unless it's for a _purpose_."

"Ohhh...how _devious_ I sound." The smirk widened, then turned into a cackle as Flemeth shook her head. "But oh my, you _are_ a clever one!" Looking back to the man, her smirk never left her face. "True, I watched you from afar, not many survivors escaped Ostagar. It's a shame you're not Wardens, but you may still be of use..."

"Wait...you watched us!" Now it was Carver's turn to bristle, and he found himself taking two steps forward, greatsword raised to attack the calm-looking crone. "You watched us and did _nothing_ to help!"

"_Carver_." It was one word...but the _tone_ was decisive...and Carver grudgingly lowered the blade and came to a halt even before he saw Garrett's raised hand. "She _did_ save us, eventually, remember that."

From his side, it looked almost as if Flemeth was _hiding_ behind Garrett's larger bulk as she grinned at him. "Oh, there's much fire in you...beware that you don't get _burnt_..." She cocked her head to the side as Carver gnashed his teeth in frustration, wanting to bash those teeth out of her smirking mouth. "Yes, I watched, wondering if you were capable enough..." Her eyes seemed to glaze over for a moment. "...it's funny, hundreds of thousands are never tested to see if they're capable of something more...and I believe they are happier for it."

Silence.

Then Garrett spoke, head tilted to the side. "Capable enough?"

"Ah yes, the heart of the matter..." Flemeth clucked her tongue, eyes flashing as she turned them to the man. "Tell me, where are you going?"

At this, Garrett hesitated, but Bethany, having snuck closer, quickly quipped in. "We're trying to get to Gwaren so we can take a boat to Kirkwall, to...family." She glanced back at Leandra, their mother looking lost among all the magic and battle as she idly scratched Maric behind the ear since the dog had sat down next to her, the Mabari watching the exchange with attentive eyes.

"Ah, Kirkwall? How curious..." For a moment Flemeth's gaze was distant as she stared at Garrett's chest, making the man frown in confusion. Then she looked back up to him, smile almost genuine. "It seems you and I can help one another." She held up her hand, revealing a thin string of silver holding a piece of polished bone smoothed to an ellipse. "See this little trinket? Near Kirkwall there is, or will soon be, a clan of Dalish elves. Bring this to them and perform any service they require of you." She dropped it in Garrett's palm. "In exchange, I will get you safely as far as Gwaren, from there I'm sure you're capable of making your own way..." Another smirk, this tainted by an unearthly flash of her eyes.

"Done." Was Garrett's immediate response, the man closing his hand around the necklace.

"Done?" Flemeth echoed, surprised and amused. "So easily you accept my offer? The clever child is not afraid of me and my..._devious_ plans?"

"If the options are me and my family dying here or playing along with whatever you have planned, then the answer is easy." Was Garrett's stoic response, the man raising his chin.

"Ah yes, _sometimes_...the answer is simple." Flemeth responded, a knowing smirk on her lips as her gaze moved between Carver, Leandra and Bethany, then back to Garrett. "_Sometimes_..."

_Creepy_. Carver felt himself shiver, and couldn't even help but speak up. "Do I even want to know what that bone came from?"

Flemeth's grin was instantly gone, her eyes flashing dangerously at him, making him take a step backwards. "No, you do not."

Silence.

Then she smiled, almost softly, as she turned her gaze back to Garrett. "Now...continue east and know..." She turned, walking away. "...that for the moment at least, you are safe..."

A flash of light, making them all turn their head...and then a dragon was soaring the sky, heading east...

Silence.

Then Garrett grunted, releasing Aveline as he started to limp forward. "You heard the dragon..."

8

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_Wesley's_ _gone_...

Aveline stared at the ground underneath her walking feet, her arms limp at her sides. The thought didn't cause much pain, just an...emptiness. He had been taken away so swiftly, in a way that she couldn't even _fight_...and she couldn't quite wrap her mind around it. _Gone_...

"You okay?" Looking up, Aveline found the mage girl, Bethany, slow down to walk next to Aveline, a concerned look on her face. Being five foot eight, Aveline was by no means short, but Bethany was taller, as all the Hawke children were, yet in comparison to her brothers had something...delicate about herself. "I mean with...your husband and all."

"You live and move on, what else is there to do?" Aveline grunted. She _knew_ she was speaking the truth, she had done the same when her father had died, yet it didn't do much to combat the emptiness...

"Just...like that?" Bethany asked, a hint of disapproval and confusion in her voice.

"What else would I do?" Aveline looked up sharply. "Lie down and die?"

"No...no of course not." Bethany turned her head away, making Aveline regret her words. The girl had been kind, assisting Aveline in setting a pyre and then used her dwindling energy to light the fire and give Wesley a proper Ferelden funeral...much to the chagrin of her older brother, Aveline remembered with some irritation. As if reading her mind, Bethany looked back to her, hesitant as she spoke. "I just...you sound like my brother. Garrett's the same; survive, move on..." She looked over at the front of the journeying group. "...I'm not as good at letting go...this is my home..."

"Home is where the heart is." Aveline automatically replied, her own gaze drawn to those ahead of them.

The younger brother was a few feet ahead of them, greatsword balanced on his shoulder and stiffly walking forward, head craning left and right, as if challenging the Darkspawn to reappear once more. Something they had declined to do ever since the appearance and deal with the shapeshifting witch.

The older brother was leading at the front, though he was moving awkwardly, shuffling forward even after they had had a break and his sister and mother had fussed over him, something he had stoically endured. He was _still_ enduring his mother, the woman was walking next to him, hands hovering over his injuries and the cracks in his armour,as if afraid he'd shatter at any moment. Not that he seemed inclined to do so, the man had, despite being the most injured of them, insisted that they'd keep up the pace in case the witch's offer would expire.

_I suppose that makes sense_...

Aveline hadn't liked how he had rushed her to slay her own husband, but she could see the reason behind it, as well as the reason for hurrying despite his injuries. The man wasn't one for mercy for anyone when it came to survival, she could respect that...even agree with it. Next to her, Bethany chuckled. "Father used to say the same thing when he was alive and we were on the road, always watching for Templars, doing odd jobs to afford a warm meal and to sleep in a barn...but we were happy. Because we were home, he'd say..."

_Gone_. "If you were moving around, why did your brothers join the Lothering militia?" Aveline asked, wanting something, _anything_, to distract her from the emptiness welling up within her.

"Oh we settled down..." Bethany cocked her head to the side and stroked her long dark hair back even as she watched her brothers, something soft in her eyes. "Tried to make a home for ourselves on the outskirts of Lothering, Garrett and Carver worked for Barlin, bad pay, but it was enough to put food on the table if mother went out and picked some herbs and berry's to go with it. I suppose Carver joined the militia to get some glory and make his own life...though he'd never admit it." She smirked. "Not that I don't appreciate him wanting to protect us and get some extra income for us...of course that meant Garrett _had_ to come along, the Hawke's protect one another."

"Like they should..." Aveline nodded, then arched an eyebrow. "And you? What did you do?"

"I...studied." Bethany replied, a flicker of a grimace in her eyes."I have to in order to control my magic, otherwise I would be a risk..." She lowered her voice to a bitter mutter. "...more of a risk than I already am, anyway..."

"And you never went to the Circle?" Aveline asked, already knowing the answer. She had never, in contrast to her late husband, been much of a religious person, and as such she had difficulty believing that mages were inherently cursed...yet even she could appreciate the need to keep them contained and trained against the dangers that existed within their very souls. It was the same principle why you kept swords and bows in a locked armoury.

"No...father was already an apostate for fleeing the Circle, he wouldn't want me to go to what he fled from." Bethany shrugged. "And mother...well...could you see _her_ letting me go to what father used to call a 'gilded cage', never to see her again?" She nodded towards the woman that was _still_ fussing over her son that stoically endured it, looking as worried as if he was dying.

"I...suppose not." Aveline conceded. "And you've never...considered it?" Aveline wasn't like Wesley, she didn't see an apostate as blasphemy, yet a mage outside the Circle still felt..._off_.

"Maybe..." Bethany grimaced as she looked down at her feet. "...living with people where I'm not unnatural sounds..._nice_." A sigh. "But I...no offence meant...am _terrified_ of what the Templars would do to me if they found me now. A self-taught apostate, gone for so long? They would cry blood-magic and run me through before I could say anything..." The girl visibly shivered at the thought. The fact that Aveline couldn't really argue with it, she had heard the stories Wesley told after all, made her grimace. "And to never see my family again..." Bethany bit her lower lip, staring at those ahead of her. "...how can you make such a decision...?"

"I understand." Aveline didn't know what else to say, what _could_ she say? Seeing the pensiveness in the eye of the only one of the Hawke's that seemed to hold some sympathy for Aveline, she grimaced and changed the subject. "So you're going all the way to Kirkwall? To find a new home with family?"

"Yes, our Uncle lives there..." Bethany replied, brightening a little. "...the Amell's, mother's side of the family, are supposed to be nobles..."

"Oh? So you'll suddenly turn into a rich princess?" Aveline managed a grin. "Quite a step from sleeping in barns, wouldn't you say?"

Bethany chuckled at that. "Well..brother says I shouldn't put my hopes too high..." She smiled though, still chuckling. "...though I suppose that sounds nice, doesn't it?" The smile died. "It's better than anything here, where we have nothing but what we're carrying..."

"Yeah..." Aveline's mirth also died at the words sinking in. _Wesley dead, me technically a deserter, not that I'd fight for Loghain anyway, and Darkspawn pouring into the land_...

"Aveline?"

_Nothing left, no family, no job_..._nothing_..._nothing but these people and their plan_...

"...Aveline?"

Looking up, Aveline raised her voice. "Hey Garrett!" The man slowed and turned his head at her, eyebrow raised in question. "You're going to Kirkwall, right? I want in."

Next to her, Bethany gasped, the man only frowned though, obviously ready to decline.

"I'll pay _more_ than my share, I won't be a problem, only an asset." Knowing the family with their sparse income and hasty flight couldn't have much, Aveline held up her coin-purse, the pouch heavy with coins from a pay she had never had time to spend. She also figured her argument would bite on the kind of man the elder Hawke seemed to be...

She was right, there was a flicker of interest in the man's gaze as his gaze drifted to her offered money. "You keep Bethany's secret, you do as your told."

"You treat me with respect, I obey when your orders make sense." Aveline responded, not about to fold before his demands.

The man regarded her, held her gaze...and she steadily looked back.

Then he spoke. "Done."

"Done." Aveline echoed and tossed the pouch to him.

The man caught it, weighed it in his hand and then attached it to his belt before turning back to his walk.

Silence.

The group continuing on.

"Huh.." Bethany muttered, obviously amused. "...I think he likes you."

Aveline arched an eyebrow. "How can you _tell_?"

Bethany laughed.

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for taking care._


	8. Chapter 8

_It'll take some time to recover_.

Garrett held back a grimace, the thought couldn't quite describe the pain. Bethany, bless her heart, had tried her best to heal him, but she had never had any aptitude for that art, and her healing had largely been superficial. As such he was less bruised than at first, but his left foot felt like it was burning every time he stepped on it while every breath had a wheezing quality that made him ever so slightly nervous.

_Could we afford a healing potion_?

_That_ made him grimace, potions were _very_ expensive, made for those with the money and the need for quick healing, like knights or nobles, not farmers that didn't even own the land they worked on._ A boat out of here is first priority, once we're off Ferelden soil we are in relative safety, if we have any money left I may consider it_..._though they are probably better spent elsewhere, I'll just have to cope for a while, the boat ride should take some time after all_.

_If__ we get there, that is_...

Grimly looking ahead, Garrett had to admit that no Darkspawn had appeared to stop them along road they had found, in fact he could see Maric come running back after yet another scouting trip, the Mabari not looking like he carried any news of import. _Good_. To be fair, the landscape was now less hostile than before. The grass was greener, and while the scattered trees and boulders around them made Garrett worry about ambushes, the fact that the treetops were full of chirping birds and green leaves was a positive sign that made Bethany in the far rear whistle, raising the spirits of the group.

Garrett paid little heed to such superficial signs though, for all he knew they were walking right into a trap.

True, Flemeth had given him a necklace and, more importantly, a task that required that he'd reach Kirkwall, which logically meant he could trust her to uphold her end of the bargain.

But magic was _not_ logical.

Garrett had studied the science of it, how it was supposed to _work_...of course he could only intellectualise it, he couldn't _know_ it like his sister did, it was as if the books were describing colours to him, when he was blind. Still, he knew for a fact that the Fade was a point of _extremes_, that magic could spawn all manner of things, that things within the Fade didn't _understand_ the logics of the real world...and Flemeth was, if there was any credence to the stories, a _being_ of magic.

As such the supposition that she would act logically was shaky, at best.

Slowing down, Maric turned and came to walk at Garrett's side, the dog giving an encouraging, if muted, bark. "I know." Garrett scratched the dog behind the ear, thankful for the feel of something soft under his fingertips among all the aches of stiff muscles. "She has given us no reason to distrust her, but I plan for all contingencies." The dog glanced up at him, an unimpressed look in his eyes, making Garrett nod and roll his eyes. "Yes I _know_ there's little choice in what to do, but humour me."

The answer was a derisive snort.

"Like you would do it differently if you were in charge." Garrett managed a pale smile, giving the Mabari another scratch behind the ears. It was odd, he hadn't known Maric for more than a few days...yet he already felt close to the dog, like he was family...a confidant._ I suppose I have been lacking in companionship_...

Carver had now and again spoken about that, how Garrett should head to the inn and get a drink so he could 'get laid' as the brother so eloquently put it. While Garrett had no time for such a waste of time, not to mention risking revealing his family's secret, Carver had perhaps inadvertently hit a nugget of truth, someone to care for beyond the family might do Garrett some good..

And what better companion than a faithful Mabari that would rather die than betray Garrett or the family? A creature whose very instincts made it trustworthy?

Garrett's smile widened a little, and he gave Maric a third scratch, making the dog give his hand an affectionate lick.

Then Carver came up next to him, the man pointing ahead with a frown. "Look at that, brother."

Following the pointing finger, Garrett blinked at the sight.

It was a cart, simple of construction and the back carrying nothing but a flattened pile of straw. More surprising however, was the fact that two horses were still bridled to it, the animals neighing in worry as they glanced back at the approaching group, their legs shaking with terror of whatever they had experienced.

_What could make a __horse__, animals preferring to run, __freeze in terror_...?

Frowning, Garrett's gaze swept over the landscape surrounding the cart...and grimaced as he saw what little remained of those that had probably owned it. It had, if the torn ribbons and strips of clothing was anything to go with, been a family with two daughters whose dresses were little more than shreds on bodies that were thankfully ruined enough to conceal any features of them. Still...the sight made Garrett's stomach turn.

"Maker..." The others had now noticed the scene, Bethany's mutter swiftly accompanied with a whispered prayer as Leandra pulled the girl close to hide her gaze from the sight.

Aveline on the other hand stepped closer, grimacing as she glanced over at Garrett. "Not Darkspawn, they would have killed the horses...you don't think..." She glanced up at the sky. "...Flemeth?"

_She wants us to get to Gwaren, probably as fast as possible, though many possibilities exist it's not unlikely_... Garret nodded. "I wouldn't be surprised." He looked down at Maric, giving the Mabari an admonishing frown. "I told you to scout, why didn't you alert me of this?" The hound cocked his head to the side, making Garrett growl. "I know I said to look out for _threats_, but didn't you think this was something I wished to know of ahead of time?" An irritated small bark. "I'm _not_ saying I expect you to make note of _everything_, but come now, use your head."

Maric looked away, whining softly in apology.

"Better."

"If you're finished bickering with the _dog_..." Carver grumbled with that hint of irritation he always had when he spoke of Maric, then he stepped forward and gestured at the cart and the bloodied remains at the side of the road. "...what do you want to do about this?"

"We take the cart, obviously." Garrett responded with a shrug before he, Carver and Aveline all carefully started to walk towards the horses.

"You're going to _steal_ it?" Leandra spoke up, startling Garrett, so far she had been so quiet...

Turning, he found Bethany and her standing side by side, Leandra glowering at Garrett while his sister was looking away while muttering. "It's more like grave-robbing..."

"The horses and cart are no longer of use to..." Garrett glanced over at the bloodied heap that had once been four _people_. "..._them_, I'm slow due to my injury and there are Darkspawn around. So _yes_, we are taking it." He shot the pale Bethany a look before she could reply. "And _no_, there is no time for burials, and you will _not_ make yourself more tired by burning them."

"We are honest people." Mother replied though, not ready to back down as she crossed her arms over her chest. "That's one of the few things we have left, I did not raise a thief."

"_Enough_." It was as much a command as it was a thought. Garrett pointed at the cart, eyes hard, making Leandra take a step back. "Get. In. The. _Cart_."

For a moment it looked like she was going to object even further...but she knew better. With her shoulders slumped and gaze downcast, she grabbed Bethany's hand and pulled her daughter with her, slinking past the scowling Garrett, the two women swiftly climbed into the cart.

"Better." Garrett turned his gaze to the other two of the group, finding Carver with an attentive look in his face and Aveline with something looking like _amusement_ in hers. "Aveline, Carver, you two will drive, I will switch with you after I've rested." The two nodded before swiftly moving to climb up behind the horses while Garrett moved to climb up next to the still scowling Leandra in a more moderate pace. "Maric, scout ahead."

The dog barked an affirmative.

Garrett barely noticed, for the moment he lay down in the hay he felt his exhausted mind drift into darkness, his head sliding down to his mother's shoulder, making her sigh even as she pulled him closer.

"Wake me when it's my..." Garrett yawned. "...turn..."

Then there was only darkness.

8

8

8

_Wha_...?

Cracking his eyes open as little as possible, Garrett found a bright sun shining down on him, the smell of hay was all around him and the cart rocked gently with each bump in the road.

He frowned, he felt..._rested_, more so than he sho_uld_. "What time is it...?" He muttered the question even as he opened his eyes fully and looked around himself. Maric was nuzzling in next to him, the dog having pushed him into the side of the cart where the hay was the thickest. At the other side of it Aveline and Carver sat at the edge of the cart, the brother looking at Garrett as the woman watched the road ahead.

She was the one answering. "Good, you're awake, we were about to wake you up." She gestured ahead, smiling softly. "We're almost there."

"Almost there?" Garrett echoed, frown deepening as his gaze moved over to Carver. "You didn't wake me up."

The grin his brother flashed was one of playfulness. "Nope, sorry, mother's orders." He cocked his head to the side. "Besides, we all decided you needed more rest than the rest of us, don't worry, we could change shifts easily even without you."

"Did you sleep well? Do you feel better, brother?" Came Bethany's question from behind, making Garrett sit up and turn his head after having thrown Carver an exasperated if thankful look.

"Yes and..." Garrett grunted as he shifted where he sat, testing his muscles. Many were aching or stiff, but much of the pain had dulled to a throbbing. The wheezing of his breath had thankfully lessened, though his foot still hurt, telling him the limp wouldn't go away in the first few days. "...yes, much better, a few weeks more and I'll be good as new." _No health potion then, good_. "Now, what's this about us being there?"

Bethany didn't need to answer, her pointing finger was enough, making Garrett look past her and mother's back and to the winding road ahead.

The road was snaking its way past boulders and small ridges in the land, yet for a road made of dirt it looked well maintained, the ditches on either side deep and bereft of garbage. It was also steadily moving upwards, up towards a plateau that sported an additional hill on the northern side.

The top of the plateau itself was surrounded by a solid-looking palisade upon which a few patrolling guards could be spotted, two towers with their bases made of stone even flanked the open gate, behind which a hint of the town it protected could be seen. The gate itself was manned by what looked like two dozen guards that scowled at the thick line of people slowly pushing their way in, some driving carts, others with large packs on their backs, most with nothing but the clothes they wore. _Refugees here, already_? _Hmmm_..._that's_ _worrying_, _the price for a boat will go up_.

At least the guards didn't seem to make any effort in stopping people entering, though Garrett doubted they allowed anyone past the walls of stone surrounding the towering keep of the fort that stood upon the northern hill and dominated the town below. The stone walls looked better manned than the town itself, making it clear to Garrett what the commander intended to protect in case of a siege. _Probably on order by Loghain, the man is known to be nothing but practical_. Garret frowned. _Though that means our need to leave is even greater_...

They were passing by a few people sitting by the side of the road now, by the looks of their poor clothing and sad faces, they were not expecting a lot out of entering the town, or perhaps they had even tried and failed to find anyone willing to help them. Forcing himself to ignore the desperate eyes, Garrett stood up and looked at the slowly approaching gate with a thoughtful frown. "Mother and Bethany, you come with me, we'll immediately go for the harbour and try to get passage on a ship. Carver and Aveline, you two will go and sell the cart and horses, we need every coin we can-"

A cackle made him turn his head, irritated with the toothy grin one of the men at the side of the road offered him. The man was bald and old, little more than skin and bones hidden under a tunic that might as well have been a sack...and the amused twinkle in his eyes was tinged with desperation as they glanced at Garrett's coin-purse, a purse decidedly heavier since Aveline's contribution. "Sell the cart? Boy, look around yourself." The old man swung his arm out over the broken ground behind him.

Garrett followed the gesture and grimaced at the sight of many carts lying there, strewn around and abandoned, some having been hacked apart for firewood. "No buyers, I take it?"

"Unless the cart is full of either weapons, food or _wine_, no." The old man groused as he got to his feet, struggling to hobble along the slow-moving cart as he eyed Garrett with interest. "Though the horses..." He once more glanced at Garrett's coin-purse.

"Yes..." Garrett put a hand under it, jingling the content encouragingly. "...what about the horses?"

"The garrison buys every horse they're offered." The old man swiftly replied, now properly encouraged. "Though when I say _buy_ it's more like _steal_...a silver piece for each horse is robbery, but what can a poor man with a starving family do...?" Again, the eyes flicked to Garrett's coin-purse.

_Hmmm_..._at least that's something_. Garrett looked back to the now close gate with a nod, his hand dropping from the purse. "Thank you, you've been very helpful."

"Wha...?" The old man stammered, confused.

Then one of the guards at the gate stepped forward and snorted "Begone, we're generous in letting people into the town, but no beggars." Using the flat of his blade, he pushed the old man down into the dirt even as Garrett's cart rumbled into the town, bringing the beggar out of view to Garrett as he instead eyed the surroundings with keen interest.

Behind him the old man was shrieking, making the rest on the cart shift nervously. "Soulless cheat! Maker spit on you!"

He wasn't important any more.

Garrett sensed his mother's disapproval though, and spoke without looking at her. "Yes, respect and to be known as honest is important mother, but our reputation in Lothering and Ferelden is now unimportant, coin _isn't_."

The only reply was a low mutter from Bethany, which Garrett let slide as he instead focused on the town itself.

Gwaren wasn't large. It was cramped though, the roads narrow and its grimy-looking houses seemingly leaning over it in their struggle for space. There was also a stench of fish hanging over it, a smell Garrett guessed was a permanent neighbour to the residents of the town, residents currently eyeing the stream of refugees with disproving frowns from their windows as their normal day was interrupted.

Further ahead, Garret could see the road slope downwards towards Gwaren's port, the wide sea covering the horizon a welcome sight in all the despair and filth. "Right, everybody out." Following his own order, Garrett climbed out of the wagon, gritting his teeth when his left foot hit the ground. Ignoring the pain he turned to Aveline and Carver, the former looking a little disapproving, no doubt thinking Garrett somehow owed the old man something for information he would have gotten for free a few moments later anyway. He ignored her frown though. "You two, the plan hasn't changed, go to the fort with the horses and see them sold, I'll take the others to the port and barter us a fare to Kirkwall."

"What about the wagon?" Bethany asked, her voice dull, tinged with uneasiness with what had just happened, the new surroundings, _everything_...

Garrett couldn't blame her, but he wasn't about to slow down enough to feel the same. "Leave it, someone else will have to deal with it." He squinted over at the distant port, worry worming itself into his gut as he could make out the five ships there, the five ships and the dock _full_ of refugees... "We will go to the docks now, there is no time to lose." _There's so many_..._if we can't get passage_..._I_..._Maker_...

Without further word, he strode past the family, knowing they would follow his orders to the letter, trusting him to get them safely through the chaos ahead.

_Don't let them see you worry_...

8

8

8

Grunting, Garrett elbowed himself through the crowd of people that seemed to just stand there, indecisive in what to do, unable to go forward yet unwilling to leave, fearing what fate such a decision would bring. The stench of unwashed bodies and desperation filled his nostrils and made Bethany behind him loudly gasp, but Garrett ignored it as he pushed ahead.

A single question to one in the back of the desperate mob had been enough to determine which two boats went to Kirkwall. The first had been a failure though, it already had a full compliment of refugees on the boat and wasn't about to take on any extra hands, despite Garrett's offer to _pay_ for working _for_ them.

So that left the last boat at the far end of the port, a vessel that was worryingly small. Its narrow hull implied speed, and though 'The Sparrow', as it was called, was supposed to be a merchant vessel the amount of men on board with bows at hand as they with glowers held back the crowd made Garrett suspect they made a fair share of their profits from piracy.

Letting his gaze sweep over the deck as he pushed himself to the front. Garrett ignored the row of burly-looking sailors with arrows resting on their bows in case anyone in the mob decided to make a rash decision, instead his gaze came to rest on a man near the raised gangplank. The man was casually sitting on the railing of the ship, one leg dangling down the side while he casually flipped a copper coin in the air, a coin drawing many gazes from the crowd, much to his obvious amusement.

The man was probably not the captain, but he looked like the one to talk to. His bare torso was burnt brown by months in the sun and covered in white scars while the black trousers and boots he wore looked like they had seen better days. He had a red bandanna wrapped around the top of his head, a gap in it allowing a brown ponytail to hang free down his back, his small beard was worn around a decidedly large mouth and his eyes were narrowed in a permanent squint, probably from having stared at the horizon for a lifetime of sailoring.

He didn't look all that friendly.

_Not like we have any choice_... "You there." Garrett raised his voice towards the man, then glowered back at a desperate-looking woman in the crowd inching closer to his coin-purse and shot her an armoured elbow to the ribs before looking back to the sailor. "May we speak? I hear you're going to Kirkwall?"

"Wot?" The sailor turned his gaze to Garrett, eyebrows raised. "Another one? Look here mate, we ain't running no charity, so bugger off like the rest of these crabs."

_Crabs_? Garrett took a step closer, tensing as he saw the other sailors straighten, the grips on their bows tightening. "What if this crab can _pay_?" He raised his coin-purse. "That is, _if_ you're going to Kirkwall."

"Ah." The sailor's eyes flashed with greed as they took in the offer. "That's better." He swung his other leg over so both were hanging over the railing. "Ya, we're going to Kirkwall mate, you and your princess and queen there looking to go?" He shot a nod at Leandra and Bethany standing next to Garrett, his eyes lingering a bit longer on Garrett's sister, making him step in front of her.

"Me and my family of three others, plus a dog..." Garrett hesitated. _We already have her gold, but she's with Carver_..._guess I could trick her on an errand while we go aboard_._ Then again, I get the feeling one more won't affect the price, plus she's shown herself capable, an ally would be good_..._even if she knows of Bethany_..._then again it's a risk_...

"Brother!" Bethany hissed, reading his mind and angrily shoving an elbow into Garrett's side with a glower.

Raising his voice Garrett continued as if there had been no pause, the decision made. "...and a friend want passage to Kirkwall."

"And what are you paying in!" One of the other sailors chimed in, eyes fixed on Bethany as he dramatically licked his lips, drawing raucous laughter from the others as she visibly shirked back behind her brother.

"_Coin_, and _nothing_ else." Garrett instantly replied, hand instinctively moving to grip his sword, making the sailors laugh even harder, clearly not impressed with a man that couldn't even reach them, never mind fight them with his visibly injuries.

"All right, all right, settled down!" The man with the bandanna shouted, making the other men calm down before turning his gaze back to Garrett. "Not to worry about the pretty ones, I say they're off limits, they're off limits." He grinned widely, revealing yellow teeth. "But that costs extra."

"Agreed." Garrett instantly replied, not about to skimp on such protection, no matter how illusionary such safety might be. "Now, what's your price?"

The sailor chuckled. "That depends, what's in that purse?"

Garrett narrowed his eyes. "That's not how this works, what's your price for safe passage to Kirkwall?"

"Not how it works?" The sailor repeated with a scoff, eyebrows raised high in mockery. "Listen mate, you're here because you have no choice, you're here because you have nowhere else to go. So...what's in that purse?"

Gritting his teeth, Garrett glowered at the man, well aware of the truth in his words, yet unwilling to give away all their savings that easily. "Just give me a price, dammit!"

"Fair enough..." The man looked up at the sky, a feigned look of thoughtfulness on his face as he drummed a finger against his chin.

Silence, the other sailors grinning at him.

Then he looked back to Garrett, a sweet smile on his lips. "How about...every coin in that purse of yours?"

_Damn_..._pirate_...! Garrett found himself gnashing his teeth, the hand around the purse tightening as he glared at the smug sailor, a feeling of helplessness gripping him. _With such a deal all we'll have are the two silvers Aveline and Carver might get from the garrison_..._and if Gamlen turns us away_...

_But if we stay, if the Darkspawn come here and the fort closes its gates to us_...

He turned his head, first looking at Leandra, his mother was wringing her hands, nervously eyeing the sailors, fearing what they might do. _Nothing compared to what the Darkspawn might do_... Then to Bethany, the woman pale, biting her lower lip as she offered him a reassuring nod that only showed how hesitant she was. _Yet I can't hesitate, not when it's about your safety_...

Turning his gaze back to the now grinning sailor, Garrett managed to squeeze out the needed word.

"Deal."

8

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8

_An early merry christmas to Abydos Jackson and all our fantastic readers!_


	9. Chapter 9

"Hey! No need to shove!"

Garrett couldn't argue with Bethany's irritated yelp, nor was he about to and pushed her again, making her move faster down the gangplank and off that Maker-forsaken ship. It wasn't as if he could _logically_ say there was any danger. After two months on the ship the word of the sailor, that had turned out to be the first mate, had stayed true, the other sailors had looked, but they hadn't touched any of the women. Yet it had been two months...and Garrett was sick with worry of them breaking their word, so much that he couldn't stand another _minute_ on the ship.

"Hey, that's no way to treat a lady!" One of the sailors shouted after them, triggering several barking laughs from the men that even now couldn't stop ogling Garrett's sister. "You need us to protect you, milady!"

_Thank the Maker we're finally here_. Clenching his teeth, Garrett forced himself to ignore the laughter of his former hosts and kept his gaze firmly on the stone dock ahead.

There Aveline, mother and Carver were already on the stone platform. The two women were visibly swaying for some reason while Carver took a long stride up the dock...only to almost fall over, the man seemingly drunk as he stumbled sideways, nearly plummeting over the edge as a hand moved up to rub his temple.

_I __told__ him to stay away from the sailors' rum, now I have to_-

Garrett's line of thoughts were interrupted when he set foot on the dock, only to nearly fall straight into Aveline as his legs nearly gave in. "Whoa there!" The woman slammed a palm into his chest, pushing him straight as she grunted. "Easy, I've been at sea before, you have to get used to solid ground, give it a while."

Garrett, fascinated, looked down at his feet even as Carver grunted out an irritated. "Sure doesn't _feel_ like solid ground..."

"Fascinating." Was Garrett's response. Looking down he could see the solid stone, also his feet upon it...but it didn't _feel_ solid, it was as if it was gently swaying back and forth, trying to tip him off the docks. He had _heard_ of sailors suffering from 'land-sickness'...but he had dismissed it as something Fereldens with with their usual distrust of the seas and all living on it, had thought up. _Should have known better than to make such assumptions_..._still, this is a curious experience, is this due to us being accustomed to the moving of the ship_...? "It's almost as if we got off the ground and are now standing on the ship again, like in Gwaren."

"Yeah, I'm really curious about it..." Carver grumbled, the man straightening, only to grimace as Maric with a relieved bark dropped down on the docks next to Garrett, the hound's head tracking left and right, awake and not showing a hint of disorientation. "Oh for, the dog's taunting us!"

Garrett arched an eyebrow and glanced down at the now sitting Maric, the hound looking at Carver with his head tilted to the side. "Or he's simply happy to be off the ship?" He looked back to Carver, noticing the distinct pout with a mental sigh. "Brother, it was a long trip and we're all tired, so please..." The man began rolling his eyes, making Garrett raise his voice. "..._please_ be quiet."

It _wasn't_ a request, and Carver dutifully closed his mouth.

One could say many things about the boy that was barely old enough to count as a man, grouchy and surly came to mind, but disobedient was not one of them. So despite the glare he shot Maric, Carver held his tongue, probably somewhere in the back of his mind aware that he was just lashing out as he usually did when he was tired.

_Tired_...

Garrett looked around the group. Though the scrapes and bruises had faded from their flight, they were still tired. Not physically perhaps, for though the food was bad on the ship and none of them was overly used to being out on the sea, they had still managed to create something of a routine to keep themselves occupied through the months. But _mentally_ was a whole different matter...

Two months was a _long_ time to sit around and worry, unsure of what to expect when you arrived. Garrett was in a way used to it, after all, he didn't go _anywhere_ without a plan for every contingency...but even _he_ had felt his nerves fraying under the wait, uncertainty holding his mind in a vice. Mother had assured Garrett that Gamlen would welcome them with open arms, and he _was_ family...but Garrett had never met his uncle, nor did he know all the details of mother's parting from the rest of the Amell family. And if something went wrong...the two silvers in Garrett's coin-purse made for a few slim meals, if even that, considering prices in the Free Marches were supposedly higher than those in Ferelden.

And with nothing else to occupy them, not even the daily chores, the rest of the family had felt the gravity of this uncertainty as well. Carver had actually sat down with Garrett a few times, trying to come up with a plan when they had no solid information to go on. It had been an admirable, if frustrating for the both of them, attempt to agree on a course of action. Even Bethany had opened her mouth to speak a few times, but in the end chosen not to speak, not even trying to share some of the leadership...

Garrett wasn't sure what he had found the most frustrating.

But now they were here, now they could finally get over the worrying, now they could _rest_.

_Rest_...

Garrett's gaze moved upwards, and as it did, so did the others, their eyes widening as they took in the sight of Kirkwall for the first time.

_That_ _is_..._impressive_.

This wasn't the regular Kirkwall harbour, but the smaller one they had been directed to that lead to a more fortified part of the city. _Despite_ that, the harbour was spacious with a full three stone docks that easily rivalled Gwaren's capacity. Yet even though it sported an impressive capacity for ships, the harbour was nearly filled with docked ships, some no larger than a row-boat with a sail on, others galleons so large Garret couldn't help but wonder how they were supposed to turn and sail out of a harbour that lay in such a narrow inlet flanked by razor-sharp cliffs.

Though Garrett felt a sting of worry about the many ships, his attention was elsewhere though, more specifically on the city that from his angle seemed more like a fortress as he gazed upon it. The walls rose high above the docks, easily beating the height of the walls of the fortress in Gwaren, if not even _Denerim's_ walls. They were clearly not just for show either, the battlements were rife with arrow-slits, and at points the battlement shot out past the wall, creating miniature towers from which one could shoot down at anyone at the base of the walls. Garrett could also not help but notice that the large number of guards at the top of the wall were _Templars_.

_The gallows_...

Garrett had spoken to many of the sailors, trying to gain information about Kirkwall, and despite being hard men of a tough profession, none of the sailors had sounded all too keen when the subject of the gallows came up. It wasn't surprising, the place had been one of hangings even after the Tevinters had been cast out of the city, and not all who had been brought to the gibbet had been rebellious slaves, whichever the government, it was always willing to be flexible when it came to pirates and other scum.

_Which means the tower is the home of the Templars_..._and the prison of the mages_. Though it was supposed to be a tower, it looked more like a _keep_, the massive building rising up towards the clouds, as if challenging the Maker himself. A dark monument of man's power, a prison as well as a garrison of an army that answered to no law but the Chantry's.

Garrett inched closer to Bethany, finding the woman cowering low before massive walls, her doe-eyes large as they stared in horror, barely noticing the supportive arm he put over her shoulder, his whisper low and calm. "They don't know, they _cannot_ know. We've practised this, say nothing and I'll get you through this, we'll go in, get through and that will be the end of it, okay?"

She managed a shaky nod, looking up at him she offered a trembling smile, uncertain and frightened.

"Refugee?"

Blinking, Garrett looked away from his sister and over to a startled-looking Carver staring at a balding little man before him. "What?"

The balding man wore a blue robe that hid much of his small form, his hands were bare though, and spindly thin as one held onto a wooden board atop which a stack of papers had been fastened while the other held a worn-looking quill. The man didn't even look up from his papers as he once more spoke, voice tinged with the boredom of a man that had spoken the question many times. "Are you a refugee? Or are you here on other business?" His accent wasn't too far from the Ferelden one, if perhaps a little softer.

He was also flanked by two heavily armoured men, though they were not Templars. Their armour was duller, their pauldrons coloured yellow and their helmets concealing every feature but their eyes, eyes looking as bored as the voice of their charge sounded. Though they were undoubtedly there to protect the robed man, their casual stances and the way they ignored Carver's and Garrett's weapons told Garrett neither of them were expecting any trouble.

Stepping up to Carver's rescue, Garrett put a hand on his brother's shoulder and pulled him backwards as he faced the little clerk. "Refugees, yes, from Ferelden."

The man glanced up at Garrett, tiny grey eyes taking in the cracked suit of armour without a hint of interest before his gaze went back to the papers. "Name?"

Garrett glanced back at the others, finding Leandra straightening in pride. Aveline looked a little lost, but since the clerk didn't seem to distinguish her from the others, Garrett figured he might as well pull her along, Maker knew he didn't want them to be held up so close to all those Templars, or cause trouble with someone that knew their secret...

He looked back at the clerk, carefully studying his face as he replied. "Amell."

There was not the slightest twitch in the man's face as he scribbled the name down on the paper, making Garrett's heart sink in worry. "Very well, Amell." The man took a deep breath, his gaze not leaving the papers as he spoke. "By decree of the Viscount; this city has already accepted enough refugees. As such all refugees, if not fulfilling certain stipulations, will be either escorted out through the city gates or sent back onto their ship..." The man glanced over Garrett's shoulder. "I see that that ship has already sailed though, literally."

Looking back, Garrett found himself tensing in irritation at the sight of their ride slowly sailing away, the first mate sitting on the railing with a still visible grin on his face as he mockingly waved Garrett off._ Though I suppose being sent out of the Free Marches is better than going back with those pirates_... Sighing, Garrett turned back to the clerk. "What stipulations?"

"Oh great, I _love_ bureaucracy..." Carver murmured at the back, but Garrett ignored him as he kept his eyes focused on the little man.

Sighing, the clerk spoke words he had probably said a thousand times before, his eyes glazed over as he stared into his papers. "If you have sufficient funds to maintain yourself until you can find a source of income, you may enter, this limit has been set to thirty sovereigns." _That's_..._exceedingly high_. Garrett held back a grimace._ The limit's there to stop all but the wealthy from entering_. "If you have contacts within the city able to vouch for your credibility, you may enter, these contacts must be at least five in numbers and be distinguished members of a viscount-approved guild, nobility or the Chantry." _Or the influential_... "Also, if you happen to have family willing and _able_ to-"

"That's it!" Leandra exploded, the woman hurriedly stepping up next to Garrett, smile wide as she with shining eyes regarded the clerk. "We _have_ family in the city! We're the Amells, _nobility_!"

The man didn't look impressed, the glance he shot her dutiful at best. "Good, then I won't have to escort you off right away and instead send you to the sergeant to prove this claim."

_Becoming someone else's problem, you mean_. Garrett cocked his head to the side. "Sergeant?"

The clerk finally looked up for more than one second, eyebrow raised. "Yes, the sergeant of the guard temporarily assigned to the gallows, this is just an initial questioning." The man shot a thumb back towards the walls, or more specifically, the open gates and the crowd of dirty-looking people that seemed to stand in a poor excuse of a line behind it. "Step to the end of the line until it's your turn, the sergeant will double-check your information and ask for validation of your claims to right of entrance. If you step out of the line you will lose your spot and be escorted out, if you fail to validate your claim you will also be escorted out." A deep breath, his voice droning on. "If you are admitted entrance you will be considered a temporary resident for your first year, if caught committing crimes within the walls within that year you will be exiled from the city, after that you will however count as a permanent citizen of Kirkwall. Welcome."

With those words the clerk, still looking utterly bored, turned around and began to walk away, his equally bored guards strolling after him as they pushed past the 'line' of refugees ahead._ They're so many_..._this could take a while_. Garrett sighed, and started walking towards the line, recognising Fereldian voices speaking in worried tones about their future.

Behind him Carver's groan was long and far too justified. "_Looove_ bureaucracy..."

8

8

8

"This waiting is ridiculous." Aveline's mutter awoke Garrett from his near slumber, making him look up at her, only to regret it as the blazing sun shone into his eyes, temporarily blinding him. "It's been _three_ days."

The woman had become more and more agitated as of late. Just like Carver she wanted an end to the wait, only she couldn't distract herself by flirting with the various girls in the line of people that still slowly moved towards a by now tired-looking sergeant of the Kirkwall guard. Instead, she ended up walking back and forth in the little corner the family had been assigned as they waited for Gamlen, a Gamlen that apparently had better things to do than speak to them.

"Actually..." Garrett sat up with a yawn, hand moving down to scratch Maric behind the ear, the dozing dog paying it no heed. "...I think we're lucky to still be here, if the sergeant hadn't recognised the Amell name we would never have been allowed to wait here and would currently be out in the Free Marches with nothing but two silvers to rub together. Here we have been given furs to sleep in and food as long as we wait...it's not ideal, but it's better than nothing."

At his own words, he glanced over at Leandra. The woman was sitting in the very corner of the gallows courtyard, hugging her knees and staring at the gate leading to the rest of the city, as she had been doing for most of the three days, her gaze filled with disbelief and confusion. Ever since the sergeant had scoffed at her words of nobility, saying the only Amell he knew of was nearly a beggar, she had been quiet as a dormouse, unwilling to speak even as she got tenser and tenser with worry.

"And it'll get better when we're allowed in." Bethany added to Garrett's words, the woman managing a pale smile as she reached out to her mother, dropping a hand on her shoulder and affectionately letting it slide down along Leandra's arm.

Bethany was better now. The first day she had been an utter wreck, flinching at every Templar in sight and crawling into the shadow of the walls around them as if it would somehow protect her. By now, however, she had gotten used to their constant presence, the fact that they completely ignored what was going on in the courtyard probably helped too.

The courtyard was actually a curious sight when you thought about it. Within it the guardsmen were going through the thankless work of processing what seemed to be an endless line of refugees. The people were herded forth one family at a time, their request to enter considered by the sergeant, and then they were either allowed into the city or escorted away to what Garrett assumed was an exit. Those that were sent away were of two types, either they protested loudly, kicking and screaming...or they didn't utter a word, dejectedly complying with being thrown out, either way the result was the same.

For the last few days the number being allowed inside had steadily diminished as the demands of those entering got more and more stringent. Garrett for one had made sure to get the sergeant's word on that his own family would be considered by the demands given when they had _entered_ the gallows...just to be safe.

But while the guardsmen of the city were doing this, it was blatantly obvious that they were only allowed to do so at the Templars' leisure. Garrett didn't know about the rest of the city, but in the gallows the walls were patrolled by Templars, and from the gates to their keep there were constantly Templars coming and going in various errands. At times there were even whole company-sized contingents of Templars marching out in perfect sync, making the weary guardsmen doing the paperwork next to them look like children in comparison.

_Maybe that guardsman I overheard about who the real power in Kirkwall was wasn't overreacting_...

"Gamlen?"

Garrett blinked at the name, looking over at Leandra, only to find his mother sliding to her feet, eyes wide as she stared towards the gate leading to the city itself. Following her gaze, Garrett's gaze fell upon a man coming down the stairs, his heart sinking at the sight. The man's clothing was simple, a roughly spun tunic and trousers along with shoes that had seen better days, he didn't look all that clean either.

_The sergeant was right about the Amell's then_. Garrett's thought was glum, he had considered the possibility of that, of them not having any rank or money to protect themselves or even allow them entrance into the city, he had considered it and the options they then had.

They were precious few.

Garrett wasn't about to give in yet though, and besides, he was standing before a member of the _family_, he owed the man his loyalty and affection.

Gamlen's face didn't look like one used to affection though, it was worn with lines, something tired in his blue eyes, making them duller than his sister's. Like her he was short of stature, and like her his hair had greyed with age, his face was somewhat broad, but gaunt, ruining the family similarity to Garrett. Though he too sported stubble from a forgetfulness of shaving, grey as it may be.

Coming down onto the courtyard, the man was looking at his sister with something odd in his eyes. Annoyance? Weariness? Garrett couldn't make sense of it.

Leandra's reaction was far easier to read. "Gamlen!" Calling out the name she rushed forth with surprising speed, arms wrapping themselves around her brother's neck as she crashed into him. "Thank the Maker you're here!"

Grunting, the man took a stumbling step back, hands gingerly gripping his sister's sides, obviously unsure whether to hold her or to push her away. His face spoke of awkwardness, as did the somewhat rough voice. "Leandra...it's been a long time."

"This ought to be good..." Carver mumbled, startling Garrett as he found the man standing next to him, his brother apparently done 'comforting' the latest girl in the line of refuges.

Neither mother nor uncle seemed to notice though as the older man slowly pushed his sister back, biting his lower lip as he looked at her face before he spoke. "What are you _doing_ here? I figured you...you know...were Fereldian for life."

"The blight...it..." Leandra pressed out the words, looking away even as her hands remained on Gamlen's chest, not quite willing to let him go. "...the Darkspawn burned _everything_, I...if it weren't for the children we'd be dead...we have nowhere to go."

Garrett's uncle visibly stiffened, then dramatically rolled his head back with a sigh. "Oh for...don't come and drop this on me, I have enough trouble as it is."

"We _are_ family." Garrett spoke up, punctuating the word by taking a step closer to the reunion.

"Oh...you're a big one." Gamlen replied as he looked up at Garrett, then over to the other two siblings. "All of you...I suppose that's Malcolm's blood, huh?" He hesitated. "In Leandra's letters...well I'm going to assume you're Garrett?" Garrett nodded. "Which would make you two Carver and Bethany, huh? Well at least you look like a tough bunch..." There was a hint of interest there, making Garrett blink in confusion.

"Yes, sir, a pleasure to finally meet another member of the family." Garrett smiled and offered a bow of his head, set on ignoring his wary instincts and reminding himself that one did _not_ regard family-members with suspicion among the Hawke's, for they were all you had.

"And this?" Gamlen glanced over at Aveline, the woman having stayed in the background so far.

Now she stepped forward, straightening. "Aveline Vallen, I escaped with your family, wouldn't have made it out without them."

"Nor we without you." Garrett pointed out with a nod, making her nod back. _Respect where respect is due_...

"Yes, yes, I'm sure it was very dramatic." Gamlen snorted impatiently, making Garrett look back to him with a hint of surprise; there was something in the man's gaze when he regarded the woman that told him Gamlen wasn't simply disregarding her though... "Now, I don't mean to be rude, but what exactly do you expect of me here?"

"Well...help, of course." Leandra replied, taken aback. "We need sanctuary and with all mother and father left behind I figured..."

"Yeah...about that..." Gamlen took a step back and rubbed the back of his neck, looking decidedly uncomfortable. "...our fortune is kind of...gone." Garrett heard Bethany gasp and Leandra grew visibly paler, but he himself now eyed his uncle carefully as the man continued in the same awkward tone. "I was _meaning_ to write you, but you know...things happen and I figured it wouldn't...affect you."

"W-what?" Leandra stuttered, her eyes wide. "B-but the Amell's...nobility...rich...how could _all_ of it be gone...?"

"Well it didn't help that I suddenly had to take care of the entire estate _myself_." Gamlen snarled, eyes narrowing accusingly at her. "Or that the beneficial marriage to the Comte de Launcet was _cancelled_, leaving business with them dry."

Garrett suddenly found himself stepping closer, a supportive hand dropping onto the shoulder of his wide-eyed mother as he kept his eyes on his uncle, his tone reasonable. "Surely _that_ would not be enough to ruin a fortune enough to make a family nobility?"

Gamlen blinked, looking up at Garrett with a flash of annoyance in his eyes. Then he shrugged and sighed. "Perhaps not, but it didn't exactly _help_." Looking back to Leandra his tone shifted to something warmer. "I have a nice place in Lowtown though, it's not all bad..."

Leandra just stared at him, aghast.

Clearing his throat, Garrett spoke. "While I'm happy for you, uncle, I don't think a family member living in Lowtown is enough to make them let us in..."

"There's other ways to get in but through the sergeant, boy." Gamlen replied. And for the first time since he'd met them, he smiled. "It didn't take me three days to come to you for nothing..."

Aveline visibly stiffened at that, but Garrett ignored it as he inched closer. "Go on..."

"Well I spoke to my contacts..." Garrett arched an eyebrow, his uncle didn't look like someone that _had_ contacts. "...and I've found two who are willing to help the family in...and I'm sure they'd welcome a capable woman like...what did you say your name was?" Gamlen looked over to Aveline, gaze moving to the sword at her side, then her muscled arms. _I don't like where this is going_...

Clearly Aveline didn't either, crossing said arms over her chest she growled. "Aveline, and _who_ are these _contacts_?"

Gamlen hesitated at her disapproving tone, but then turned back to Garrett as he spoke. "It's really the only way, I don't have the gold to get you in, and the Amell name will _certainly_ not get you in...but these people...they can _easily_ get it done."

"For a price, I assume?" Garrett neutrally replied, mind working. _He's right, if he lives in Lowtown he doesn't have the money nor standing to get us in_. _We could try another city, but with the war in Ferelden they'll be brimming with refugees as well_. _If we go far north_..._no that's too far, and mother is not as spry as she used to be, we can't go back to living on the road as we once did_._ Why would these people be willing to help though_...?

"Of course, they're not a charity exactly." Gamlen responded with an amused snort. "But they know a deal that benefits both parties when they see it. Individuals able to fight and escape Darkspawn, capable people, are few in supply, mages even more so..." His gaze drifted to Bethany...and then widened as Garrett stepped close to him, his armoured chest nearly bumping into the man's face as he looked down at him.

"You told them of Bethany...?" Garrett's voice was a hiss, torn between loyalty the family in general and the one he had spent his entire life protecting. _He's family, don't hurt him, he's family, don't hurt him_...

Gamlen took a long step backwards, visibly swallowing. "Calm down, these people have no reason to turn her in, in fact they view mages free from the Circle as quite an _asset_...I wouldn't have managed to cut this deal without telling them of her."

"How wonderful, my 'gift' finally does something positive for us..." Bethany murmured, drawing a chuckle out of Carver.

Garrett forced himself to ignore the two though as he kept his attention fixed on Gamlen. "I will have to trust you on this uncle, but I must say that this worries me, a _lot_." Grimacing, he forced himself back on topic. "So who are these contacts then?"

"Yes, please, enlighten us." Aveline added, still frowning.

"They're not the worst bunch out there, but not a nice one either." Gamlen admitted. "Meeran runs a mercenary group called the Red Irons...they don't go back on any deals, so they're at least honest, if one can call hired killers that." He shrugged. "Then there's the elf Athenril, her business is expanding and they're looking for recruits...they're _not_ honest, but what can one expect of smugglers and thieves? But at least both groups protect their own."

"Great, I'm in awe of the options." Aveline growled, clearly angry.

Garrett ignored her though, forcing himself to stay calm and rational as he spoke. "If getting us in is expensive I'm assuming the price will be too..."

"Yeah...both wish you to work off the debt...erm..." Gamlen hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. "...for a year."

"A _year_!" Leandra suddenly exploded. "My children are supposed to be nobility and now you want to turn them into _slaves_ for a _year_!"

"Well there's not many other options, now is there!" Gamlen snarled back. "You'll get a roof over your head, a warm meal now and again and at least they'll have work."

"Work they're not getting paid for!" Leandra replied, just as angry.

Garrett swiftly stepped between them, sighing. "There's not much in the way of options here, mother, we can argue later, okay?" Leandra deflated, something akin to a sniff escaping her as she looked away, the air around her thick with defeat and disappointment. However much it pained him, Garrett forced himself to turn away from her and instead focus on his uncle. "If you can make this happen, I see little choice, we will work for Athenril."

"I will make the arrangements." Gamlen responded, once more smiling as something in his eyes glittered. He offered his hand though, making Garrett give it a dutiful shake.

Then, as he turned to walk away, to get them into the city, Aveline gave voice to her disapproval once more. "We're going to be thieves now? This is despicable."

"It was either that or murderers." Garrett pointed out, giving her a weary look as he finally allowed himself to walk up to his mother and wrap his arms around her shaking form.

The woman didn't reply with anything but a sigh and a nod.

Bethany shrugged, the girl looking weary as she muttered. "At least it'll be safer than with the mercenaries..."

8

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8

_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for putting up with me._


	10. Chapter 10

"This...is it?" Mother's voice wasn't even tinged with disappointment, it was more of an...emptiness.

Bethany for one _was_ disappointed – she had dared to dream of a life of luxury, or at least one where she was safe from Templars...only to get _this_ – but taking a deep breath through the nose helped, making her look at things objectively. Sure, Gamlen's place was a sty, but that was nothing that she and mother couldn't spiff up in time, it was also bigger than their old place, meaning Aveline would fit in until she could get her own place.

The woman in question was walking up to the fireplace of the main room, frowning into it's dark hole, and Bethany guessed the reason _wasn't_ the piles of untended ashes within.

Getting into Kirkwall with Athenril's help had been surprisingly easy, a few guards paid off and the family had been led into the city. The lack of discipline with the city's protectors had been enough to make Aveline bristle, but the elf she was supposed to work for hadn't made things any easier, she had expressed her confidence in that they would be a sound investment and glee over their future 'business'...and Aveline was apparently one who verbalised her dislike of such practices, as well as the way the elf had teased her about mentioned protest...

Not to mention that Aveline seemed to be a bit of a nationalist, she cared for Ferelden, in particular her _people_, Fereldians who in Kirkwall found themselves in Lowtown if they were _lucky_. The fact that Athenril had unabashedly claimed this as a great opportunity to expand by hiring on these desperate hands to a life of crime had _not_ gone well with Aveline, something Athenril had after only a few minutes found not a little annoying...

Of course Garrett had gone between the two and calmed things down before it had gotten ugly, but Bethany had a feeling that would not be the last they saw of the two women's mutual dislike of one another.

Bethany herself was less upset about their situation, as was Carver, the Hawkes' had broken a few laws in their nomadic lifestyle before, Bethany being with them was a crime after all. Not that they had ever gone out of their way to break the law as seriously as someone that was a professional _smuggler_ did...but by now the two siblings had learnt the lesson of doing what it took to survive fairly well, and weren't about to protest about their new job.

Not that Bethany was entirely happy to work for an _elf_...

She wasn't like most, she didn't look down on elves, their family had lived in the same gutters as most Alienage elves had at a few points, as such she knew mostly sympathy for them. She could consider them as equals, and in contrast to most she had no problem working with them, but to work _for_ one? It wasn't so much the race thing as it was how it signified just how _low_ the family had sunk...she didn't like it.

Things had moved so fast though...there was little time to consider all they had experienced and where they stood, Athenril wanted to _test_ her new workers this very night, and something with the grin she had sported had told Bethany it would be a painful ordeal.

"Living room, room enough to put in a few extra beds, a storage area for food and tools..." Gamlen walked forth, gesturing at the door at the other end of the room, then to the one to his right. "A second room...errr...lots of junk there at the moment, but we can clear it out and get several people to sleep there, no problem." He offered a nervous smile as he turned to the rest of the family. "See? No problem." 

Bethany caught herself scowling at him and smoothed her features with an effort of will. She was not like Garrett, she could not simply shrug her shoulders and accept the man, even care for him, simply, because of an accident of birth. Athenril had _laughed_ at them calling her Gamlen's 'contact' and smirked as she had informed them that part of the deal was that their free work meant his _debt_ with her was paid...clearly he hadn't helped them out of the kindness of his heart, and in fact had exploited them to save his life.

Of course Garrett could not dislike a member of his _family_, and had simply scowled at the elf for revealing the actions of his uncle, yet remained polite, much to her obvious amusement.

The man in question was now slowly moving closer to his uncle, nodding as he looked around himself. "Enough space, all the necessary facilities...this'll do. How are the prices in the market?"

"Good enough...the bread is worse but cheaper if you go to it late." Gamlen shrugged. "Firewood and most other food is cheaper if you buy it outside the gates, it's a bit of a walk, but it's worth it."

"As is buying a woodsman's axe." Garrett muttered, hand drifting down to his practically empty coin purse. "And the Templars? How much presence do they-"

"This...this is it?" Leandra repeated, interrupting her son as she stared around herself in disbelief.

Bethany didn't think her mother really cared so much about the money, she had given it all up for their father after all, it was something else...

A moment of silence...and then Leandra confirmed Bethany's suspicion. "Gamlen...what happened? What happened to our _home_?"

_Home_...

Mother had never really spoken much of how it was back in Kirkwall, but whenever she had she had always inadvertently called it home...and the tone had been different than when she spoke of whatever place they had as home back in Ferelden, with more _warmth_.

_We're home_...

The thought made Bethany smile pensively, whatever happened, if the Templars caught her or not, if they remained in Lowtown or got back their inheritance...they were home, there would be no more running...

There was peace in that knowledge.

"I already _told_ you!" The man snarled defensively. "With mother and father _gone, _with_ me _having to take care of them during their last months, and us _without_ the De Launcet marriage, we not only lost a big contract but I was suddenly alone because _somebody_ had to run away with her little _apostate_."

Mother took a hesitant step backwards, looking away in guilt, voice a low murmur. "I...yes...but it was so _much_...how could it _all_ just...disappear?"

Now it was Gamlen's turn to look away, the old man sighing as something sad flashed underneath his tired eyes. "I admit I'm not the..._best_ when it comes to money...and with me suddenly alone, no longer the dull child living in the shadow of your _brilliance_...well..." Another sigh and he looked away in shame, voice a bitter whisper. "I figured it would work itself out...I...never wanted it to go this far."

Silence.

_Awkward_ silence.

Then Carver moved, the man not saying a word as he walked past his mother, then his uncle, hand giving the later a supportive clap on the shoulder.

Sighing, Bethany grabbed the dusty and all too unworn broom that had been thrown into a corner, set on at least getting _some_ cleaning done before she had to go and initiate herself into a life of crime.

_Oh what a wonderful family we are_...

8

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8

Bethany felt her heart thunder in her chest, the excitement she always felt ashamed of running in her veins in anticipation of their heist as she crouched low behind a pile of garbage.

_Has it really been four months already_?

It felt like only yesterday since the family had arrived in Kirkwall and started to work off their debt to Athenril and her band of smugglers, but since then they had been kept busy by the swiftly expanding criminal gang.

Athenril's Footpads, as they liked to call themselves, had indeed grown in ability and size, this mostly thanks to the influx of Fereldian refugees. While the dominating Coterie gang felt too good to hire them, Athenril had eagerly hired on these people in _droves_, and what these Fereldian peasants and deserters lacked in skill they more than made up with a daring fuelled by desperation and the fact that losses were easy to replace.

_Can't believe I thought this would be safer then mercenary work_... Glancing to her right, she found Carver's teeth flash in a grin within the midnight darkness, the cracked Ferelden armour he had inherited from Garrett making him a black spot under the shadow of the house they crouched next to. In contrast to her, he was not ashamed to feel excited about their work, in fact he _welcomed_ their more challenging jobs, which was good considering how they had grown in frequency as of late...

Garrett had advised against it again and again...but Athenril would not take his advice when it came to her idea of ousting the Coterie as the major crime-syndicate in Kirkwall. To be fair they had managed so far, they had lost a few men, but no one that couldn't be replaced. And the fact that Garrett had managed to map out the Kirkwall guards – as he called it – 'obvious' patrol schedule had given them a decisive advantage since they could hit the Coterie during the day and then evade reprisal by hiding in the crowd where the guards were.

In fact, Garrett's planning and cunning had been a large part of what had ensured the Footpads' light losses. Not only had it helped in hitting the Coterie where they least expected it, but it had also done so with little violence and even respectfully, doing as much as possible to not antagonize the still slumbering monster of an organisation. Despite her making fun of his caution, there was little in the way of amusement in Athenril's voice nowadays when she called him her best man, which had helped in securing the family the odd bonus or two.

As such Bethany had high hopes that stealing from the Coterie storage area ahead would go smoothly, yet she still cast a glance at their helping hands, wondering if any of them would be caught or hurt, and if so, if she would actually miss them.

The two just behind her and Carver were veterans from Kirkwall. One was a bony little man whose long nose seemed to be nothing but gristle and little else, the weasel-like grin he shot her making her shudder. The other had the eyes of a dullard, but his massively broad shoulders spoke of a man capable in the ways of violence, as if the iron mallet stained with blood in his hands wasn't enough of a sign.

Bethany knew they were two of Athenril's most trusted men, but little else, Garrett and Carver had a tendency to protect her from the details of the family's dealings with Athenril, and in this particular matter, Bethany didn't much mind.

The other three at the back were more nervous-looking, and more deserving of sympathy. A boy no older than sixteen, seemingly ready to faint, an old man with a comforting arm over the boy's shoulder, and a woman that was constantly scowling, as if daring anyone to question her right to be there. All three Fereldians, new to the organisation, unknowing of just what a pittance their share would be, yet greatly depending on it to survive.

At least one of them would probably be dead by the end of the month, another in prison.

_I'm glad Aveline wasn't around when this started_...

The woman had actually found the most curious way out of her debt with Athenril, a way she hadn't even really planned. Her conflicts with Athenril had only increased in frequency and intensity with time. Her verbal and vehement protests, even though she performed her duty, against every crime they did had constantly gotten on Athenril's nerves, until the very point that violence had been in the air back in their hideout.

Garrett, ever the diplomat, had tried to calm things down, knowing conflict within their extended 'family' would be dangerous. He had actually managed to get Aveline to apologise for her harsh words. That, of course, hadn't been enough, Athenril had been _angry_, seeing in Aveline a threat to the organisation as a whole, which Garrett had played on according to what he'd later told Bethany; he had pointed out that the moment Aveline was released from her debt, she would become a real threat to the organisation, and as such it would be better to release her from it before she learnt too much.

He had been right. The moment Aveline was free she had sought and gained entrance to the guard. Days later some of the, in preparation of that largely emptied, warehouses the Footpads had were raided by the guard.

_Still not sure that's the entire story_...

Looking further back, Bethany caught sight of her older sibling catching up with them, his gaze steadily fixed on the building on the other side of the street. A month ago he had been rewarded by Athenril for his service with a suit of a armour from one of their jobs, which had freed his old armour for Carver to use, after a few modifications to fit him, of course. It was a suit of plate that covered his chest, arms and calves, all separated by grey cloth, protecting the vital parts, yet easy to move in and ensuring no piece rattled against the other as they snuck around. Athenril _had_ joked about needing to protect her best investment, but Bethany wondered...

_Athenril had been so angry_...

Bethany remembered it vividly, it was not often the elf shouted, nor threatened people, but in this instance she had found it in her. Her anger with Aveline had even moved over to the _Hawkes_, accusing them of bringing that 'viper' into her home, of how she should just send them away and tell the guards of their little apostate family member...

_She threatened the family_...

Bethany felt sick at the memory, eyes staring at the gift Garrett wore, remembering how he had dragged her aside to talk sense into her, of how _long_ it had taken...and how _content_ she had seemed after the two came back...she hadn't even asked for anything in return for letting them off the hook...

_He didn't_..._did_ _he_...? Bethany's gaze moved up to Garrett's brown eyes, but found no answers in his steady gaze._ I know he'd do anything to protect me and the family but_..._Maker, please don't tell me he was with that 'woman' for my sake_...

The thought made her sick to the stomach.

Garrett didn't seem to notice, his eyes on the door at the other side of the narrow street, the place lay on the outskirts of the docks, in one of the filthiest areas...and as such was poorly lit and nearly never patrolled by the guards. Which made it perfect for the Coterie for some long-term storage...and for the Footpads to raid when the majority of the Coterie guards were off celebrating a successful raid on a merchant caravan.

"The Coterie men are good and drunk in the Hanged man. What's the status here?" The man rumbled, hand moving down to check the Ferelden sword at his side.

"Only seen two guards, they went out to smoke a while ago, but we figured we'd wait for you to strike." The weasel-like Kirkwaller replied, making Carver frown at him, clearly the one wishing to answer.

"Only two? Okay, we take them swiftly and without trouble, and _without_ killing them." Garrett's words made the two Kirkwallers' roll their eyes, but they nodded in agreement. After all, as Garrett had argued, if they got captured while on a job against the Coterie where there were some you had spared, could well save your life. "Bethany, Carver, you remember the positions?" The two siblings nodded, Bethany with a reluctant sigh.

She knew she was pretty, but the fact that she had to play bait was..._annoying_, not to mention that she then would be left to guard the door as her brothers continued to protect her against the sights of what she _knew_ they had to do to survive. _I'm a grown woman, dammit, I don't need them to protect me from reality any more_...

She didn't say it however, instead she rose and moved towards the door, walking across the moonlit street while her brother adopted an innocent look on his face as he walked beside her. Behind them the rest of the men crawled forward, moving like shadows as they moved to both flanks of the siblings and slid forth to hug the wall on each side of the door and their objective.

Stopping in front of the door Bethany took a deep breath, curbing the nervousness and fighting the irritation with Carver giving her a supportive pat on the back. Then she raised her hand, gently tapping the door.

There was a screech of a chair being pushed back.

Then, a few moments later, a slot was pushed open in the door, revealing the face of a grizzled man with white stubble and black smudge over his nose, his voice the deep one of a large man. "Yeah what do you-" He blinked at finding her dazzling smile, wide gaze moving over her cheeks and lips...Bethany held back her shudder as he spoke once more. "Well _hello_...what can I do for you?"

"Hi, me and my friend here got a little lost and it's frightfully cold..." Bethany forced her voice to stay sweet, something she had gotten an annoying amount of practice in as of late, Carver smiled encouragingly, but it was hardly noticed, the man behind the door didn't even glance at him as he stared at her face. "...so we wondered if we could just come in for a while and..." She forced herself to hold her tongue for but a moment. "..._warm_ ourselves."

The door clicked open before the man had even begun to speak. "Sure, sure, come in!" The man opened the door with a grin. "You're welcome to stay-"

The moment the door opened Carver's smile disappeared and turned into a snarl as his head moved back...and then slammed forth into the other man's face, sending him tumbling onto his back with a cry of pain.

Then there was a rush and crashing as all but Bethany poured into the room, silencing someone mid-shout with the crack of armoured knuckles hitting a jaw, Garrett's voice nearly lost in the chaos. "Bethany, close the door and keep a look out!"

"Yeah, yeah..." Grumbling, Bethany closed the door, grimacing as some blood stuck to it smudged over her hand. _For my magic being seen as useful I sure don't seem to get to use it_... Pouting, she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned her back into the wall, dutifully glancing out towards the main street.

She knew it was silly, that Garrett was just making sure no Templar would come look for them, that she was safe, like _always_. Yet however despicable their work was she still felt as if she wanted to do _some_ of it, to be _useful_...was that so strange? _Shouldn't use my magic, but it_..._dammit, it's all I know, what they want me to dedicate myself to, yet won't allow me to practice_..._it's so_..._frustrating_!

She almost missed their flight from the Darkspawn. Not the battling or the fear, but because for that _one_ moment she was _useful_, she was _free_, even _encouraged_ to use what she had spent her _life_ learning to contain...now that she was no longer allowed it...the world felt more empty. It was as if she was a bird, allowed a moment to spread its wings and fly...only to be caged once more.

_At least the mages in the Circle gets to cast their spells in a contained environment_. Sighing, Bethany's gaze moved over to the distant keep wherein the Templars and their mages lived. She no longer felt fear just by looking at it. Sure, the Templars were scary, she remembered her father's stories well...but the idea of being around_ fellow mages_...it filled her with a strange longing.

"Silly girl..." She shook her head at her own foolishness, glaring down at the ground as she scolded herself for such a bizarre feeling. _How can you long for captivity_? _Foolish girl_...

"Silly girl, indeed." Someone agreed, making Bethany jump, eyes wide as she stared at the space across the street in horror.

A moment ago it had been empty, now men and women appeared from it, like shadows taking solid form they materialized, wearing tightly fitting grey leather, knives and axes seemingly appearing out of thin air. "The Coterie..." Bethany tried to take a step back, but found the wall stopping her.

"Correction, the _best_ of the Coterie." A man stepped out of the shadows, broadsword in hand glittering with what looked like _enchantments_, a man who had been given such a costly weapon in such a ruthless organisation was a man to be feared. The grey eyes within the cowl he wore were hard. "We're here to make an example out of you, the Coterie doesn't _like_ being taken for fools."

"G-get back!" Bethany raised her hands, flames sparkling over her palms as she automatically drew on the lingering warmth in the ground, a _comforting_ warmth, a warmth speaking of _power_...

To her surprise, the man's eyes simply twinkled in amusement. "You're not the only mage here." A moment later another man stepped forth, his short stature covered in black robes as he raised pale hands...and Bethany felt the pull of strange magics at work as something began to shimmer in front of the Coterie men. "So perhaps you should just come quietly and we won't have to-"

"She won't come at all." The door slammed open and Garrett strode out, eyes narrowing at the other group's leader. "Nor will _any_ of us." Bethany struggled not to sag in relief, though her glance told her the odds hadn't improved all that much. Garrett and Carver looked more than ready to fight, as did the brutish Kirkwaller, the Fereldians were pale as sheets though as they kept as far back as they could, clutching their daggers as if they were for comfort rather than protection. The weasel-like man had already disappeared, having chosen discretion over valour.

"Ah, Athenril's right hand, what a fortunate catch, you'll be valuable to us." The cowled man cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowing. "But only _alive_, so drop those weapons, you're outmatched..." He held Garrett's gaze, a smirk in his voice. "...and you _know_ it."

Silence.

Bethany felt cold sweat run down her back as the flames flickering over her hands nervously danced over her fingertips, indecisive where to go as she refused to release them. Her gaze moved to Garrett, his face was seemingly carved in stone as he held the gaze of his opposite number, tension visible in the way he gripped his sword, unwilling to let it go as those at his back nervously glanced at him, sensing the chance for a peaceful end slipping away.

As did the Coterie assassins, the warriors spreading out further along their side of the street, as if unwilling to risk the touch of moonlight between the two forces until they'd been given the word to attack. They looked eager though...

Silence.

Then Garrett broke eye-contact with the Coterie leader, his gaze instead moving to hold Bethany's. "Bethany, fireball..." Her eyes widened even as everyone stiffened at the prospect of battle, though Bethany could do nothing but hold her brother's gaze, the hardness within them telling her he refused her to hesitate for even a moment. "...into the air."

"Huh?" The Coterie leader managed...and then the flames in Bethany's hands grew into an inferno before shooting up into the night, a ball of flame over-shining all the stars above with the intensity of its glow.

Silence.

Then someone in the distance screamed...a scream echoed by another as the fireball, at the end of its range, harmlessly exploded into the air.

Looking back down, Bethany found the Coterie man and Garrett once more locking gaze, but this time the momentum had visibly shifted as the Coterie man's brow furrowed in confusion and worry.

Far off, an alarm went off.

Then a shout. "Guards! Guards! Over here!"

There was a growing trample of iron-shod boots...

Another shout. "Apostates! Where's the Templars! Send for the Templars!"

_More_ boots, thundering against the cobbled stones, the rattle of armour and swords.

Behind Garrett, the others stared at him, hesitant, nervous eyes glancing out towards the street.

Behind the Coterie man, his people were doing the same.

"Templars! Over here! It came over here!" Someone shouted, only to be instantly answered by even _more_ rattling of armour, creating a cacophony as the echoes bouncing along the otherwise empty streets made the running soldiers sound like an entire _army_. The curse uttered by the Coterie man's mage was lost in the sound of it even as Bethany felt herself tremble in fright.

_They're going to find me here, casting spells, they're going to find me and they're going to_-

He didn't utter any command, but she could _feel_ Garrett ordering her to calm down...and forced herself to do so as he and his opponent continued their mental duel.

More trampling...

More shouts...

Louder...

Louder...

Cursing, the Coterie man whirled about and snarled something unintelligible at the others...who as one turned around and ran for the street.

The moment they entered it there was a louder shout, not one of alarm, but of authority. "In the name of the Maker, halt!"

The Coterie warriors did the complete opposite.

Turning a sharp left they began to spring away, swords and axes dropping onto the ground or being hurled at their pursuers as they ditched anything that might slow them down in their flight.

The Coterie mage, however, simply fell over, moaning as he clutched a knife thrust into his thigh.

Bethany grimaced at the sight._ Stabbing your own ally to get away_..._despicable people_...

"Hold, stay in the shadows and don't move a muscle." Hearing Garrett's calm order, probably told to one of the still worried Fereldian's, Bethany still crouched down to stare at the sight of a full fifty Templars in full armour charging after the Coterie warriors with angry oaths on their lips. If they realised they'd never catch their fleeter targets, they didn't show it as they left the wounded mage in the dirt along with two remaining Templars.

_Oh Maker_... Bethany stared in horror and sympathy at the sight of one of the Templars casually rolling the mage onto his back with an armoured boot, the voice within her helmet distorted to a booming quality. "He's injured."

"Serves him right." The male Templar responded with a snort, poking the mage in the chest with his greatsword. "You thought you could outrun us, oldie?"

"This isn't a joke." The female reprimanded the other, if the two differed in rank, it didn't show, but on the other hand Bethany had never studied Templar ranks and how to distinguish them, it was a topic she rather avoided... "But it _is_ a factor in his judgement." _Huh_? The female Templar turned back to the groaning mage, ignoring his weak attempts to pull out the dagger in his leg as she regarded him. "Apostate, how long have you been outside the circle? Without proper supervision?"

"Go...to hell..." The mage groaned, his voice revealing that he indeed _was_ old, probably near sixty. "It hurts...help..."

"Should we..." The male Templar moved to reach for the dagger...only to pull back as the female shot him a glare, an impressive accomplishment given her helmet. "...guess not, sorry, old man."

"How? _Long_?" The female turned back to the mage and stepped down on the dagger, grinding the blade into the man's thigh and drawing a long scream out of him that echoed across the empty streets of Kirkwall.

"I'm...free..." A mad cackle escaped the old man. "...that's all that matters, to you! Ha..._free_..." The man seemed to find something amusing in the word...as if it was a joke only he was in on.

Silence.

Then the woman sighed, shaking her head. "You are not helping your case, tell me what I want to know and you may be spared and sent to the circle for rehabilitation, resist and you will be judged here and now."

"Tranquillity? You think I want that!" The old man gasped, spittle striking the woman's boot as he gasped out his defiance. "I spit on you!"

Another sigh escaped the woman, her voice bereft of anger.

Silence.

Then she drew her blade, the tone of her voice formal. "Unidentified mage, you have been judged an apostate, you have been away from the circle from an undefined length of time and shown yourself defiant and disrespectful of the Maker and His appointed servants. Whether corruption has entered your flesh or is just present in your spirit is unimportant, heresy cannot be allowed to thrive. So is the judgement."

The male Templar hesitated...but then looked away. "So is the judgement."

Bethany's eyes widened as she saw the old mage turn his head, eyes staring into the darkness of her hiding place...only for them to widen as the blade entered his chest.

Silence.

Blood pouring out, creating a black pool on the cobbled street.

Then the blade was pulled out, making the staring Bethany flinch as the body before her twitched, the Templar's voice a low murmur seeping into Bethany's ears "May the Maker forgive you, mage."

And in the darkness of night, even with her brothers at her back, she felt alone.

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for all her hard work. _


	11. Chapter 11

"This bread's delicious!"

Bethany raised an eyebrow, glancing over at Carver practically burying his face into the brownish loaf, then over at Garrett across the dining table, the man looking back at her with a smirk in his eyes, making Bethany stifle a giggle as she turned back to her twin. "It's nearly a week old and got soggy in the rain on the way back yesterday..."

"I know! And that did _wonders_ to it!" Carver replied with a grin, only to dig back into the loaf, apparently set on eating the entire thing there and then. _Is he just putting us on_? Bethany shook the thought aside, her brother didn't have a deceitful bone in his body.

Garrett shifted, the little smile on his lips not dying, telling Bethany he wouldn't reproach his brother as he usually did when it came to eating more than you needed to. "I believe you owe Maric an apology."

At that the dog looked up from where he lay in the corner of the dining room, the marrow he was about to lick out of the bone his jaws had snapped momentarily forgotten. Carver didn't even do that, his face still buried in the bread as he managed a muted reply: "How's that?"

To Bethany's right, Gamlen and Leandra also stirred. The two had formed some form of truce over the last six months. Bethany supposed it was necessary when you had to spend so much time with one another, but also figured that they found a peace in one another, painful memories and regrets were better than nothing at all after all, giving them both a sense of home and belonging they had lacked for years.

"Wasn't it you who only a day ago said _he_ would be ready to eat _anything_?" Garrett shot Bethany a glance, giving her a rare wink. "I think you ought to look at yourself in a mirror."

"Wha-?" Carver finally raise his head, crumbs covering his mouth and chin, even a few stray ones across his cheeks, cheeks widened with the bread still within them.

Silence.

Everyone staring at Carver, him staring back with a blank look on his face.

Then a titter escaped Leandra, followed by a chuckle from Gamlen...and Bethany laughed, making Garrett's smile widen even as Gamlen and Leandra joined in with the laughing. Then Carver's mouth opened as even he was drawn into the laugh, spilling crumbs all over the table as his hands vainly tried to sweep it up and stop the growing mess.

Then, one of the rarest of things happened, Garrett's already rare smile turned into a warm chuckle.

A crash.

The laughs instantly stopped, everyone flying to their feet and whirling about to face the door.

Just in time for the second crash, this time hard enough to make the door swing open and a horde of people to pour in.

For a moment Bethany felt terror grip her heart, the images of Templars coming for her or the Coterie coming for revenge were something fresh out of her nightmares, and every time someone opened the door those images flashed before her eyes.

Relief, if tainted with annoyance, replaced it though as she saw Athenril among the people stumbling into their home.

Only for it to be replaced by a third emotion, _worry_.

The elf was usually all smiles and confidence, but today she looked ragged, her brown hair dirtied, rogue strands having been pulled free from the leather band it usually was pulled into. Her green leather armour had been smudged with blood, though none of it seemed to be her own. She was also bent forward, struggling to help one of the Footpad's more experienced Fereldian men into the room as another closed the door behind them, eyes narrowed as he cast a final glance outdoors.

_Oh no_.

Rising to her feet Bethany's wide eyes travelled over the rest of the people that had stumbled in. Most of them were Kirkwallers, veterans in Athenril's gang, in fact several of them were her usual escort...though several of them were missing, and those that were there looked dirtier than usual, not to mention most sported cuts and bruises, some of them _bad_.

"What in the name of the Maker...!" Leandra, sitting closest to the door, had flown to her feet and stumbled into Gamlen, the man holding onto her shoulders even as the both of them backed away from the sight with wide eyes. "What's the meaning of this!"

It had been a silent agreement between the siblings that they'd keep their mother out of their 'work' as much as possible, they didn't want her to worry, nor to hear of the horrors they sometimes had to deal with. As such Bethany was not surprised when a low growl escaped Garrett as he stepped in front of his mother, glaring at the sight. "Explain yourself."

"I really don't see how you can't figure it out yourself." Athenril retorted with a somewhat strained chuckle. "Let's just say the Coterie has taken on a bit...harsher tone with us."

Garrett didn't answer her, instead he glanced back and gestured for his mother...who without a word lowered her head, grabbed Gamlen by the arm and silently moved into the other room, the door clicking shut behind the two.

The moment the door closed, Garrett turned back to the elf, eyes narrowed, voice a low rumble. "I told you they would, I told you they would start to use violence." The accusation was clear in his voice.

Athenril merely shrugged, ignoring him as she with surprising care let the man she was supporting down onto the floor, hands moving to check a nasty gash across his shoulder. "And I listened, but you can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs...or that is, an empire without a few fights."

"We are the weaker si-"

"Which we will _continue_ to be if we don't do something about it, silly boy." Athenril interrupted with a raised chin and a smirk on her face, making Garrett bristle.

Bethany rolled her eyes._ Here we go again_... Garrett, confident in his position as Athenril's right hand, always argued with her about their current campaign against the Coterie. Though 'argue' was perhaps too harsh a word, Garrett was always level-headed enough about the matter to act respectfully and never raise his voice, while Athenril seemed to find a strange pleasure in baiting and teasing the man whenever he brought up the subject.

Yet to Bethany's surprise, and Carver's disappointment if she read his face right, Garrett took a deep breath and waved the old subject aside. "Never mind that, I'm more curious why you're _here_." He raised a hand to silence Athenril before she could respond. "Or rather, how you _dare_ to come here with wounded men, into my _home_."

For a moment Athenril actually hesitated as anger flickered under Garrett's steady gaze. Then she smirked, shaking her head, a tut escaping her. "Garrett,Garrett...when will you learn? I dare _anything_ when it comes to _my_ men...you know why?" She moved closer, and though her elven stature made her turn her head up to look up at Garrett, the confidence in her eyes didn't waver for a moment as she pushed a finger into Garrett's chest. "Because I _own_ you."

Silence.

Garrett's brow narrowed into a scowl, voice low as he growled the words. "Not forever." Athenril blinked even as the man continued to scowl down on her, voice still low and threatening. "And I also expected the courtesy of you to _not_ barge into my home with wounded men, which not only draws the attention of the Coterie but also risks drawing the city guard or Templars to my doorstep. Did I _not_ make that clear before? The Footpad business was _not_ to _touch_ this place."

For a moment Athenril actually seemed to waver...then the smirk turned into a toothy grin as she tossed her head back and chuckled. "_Ha_! That's what I like about you! You actually think you have a _say_ in these things! You think..." Something coy appeared in her eyes as she regarded the human while lowering her voice. "...you're in _charge_, makes it all the more fun to show you just how wrong you are..."

_Eugh, I think I'm going to be sick_. Bethany grimaced and looked away, she had learnt to abhor their boss for some time now. Athenril might be a capable smuggler, but she was arrogant and enjoyed her power far too much. The fact that they were indebted to her and she had blackmail material on them had very obviously – even to Bethany – given her many opportunities to sink her claws into Garrett whenever they had some downtime. If it actually was him or the power of the situation she enjoyed, Bethany didn't even _want_ to think about. _He deserves better then to be forced to be with that_..._thing_!

Garrett at least seemed to share her opinion about their employer, though he never let it show except at home, where they were supposed to be _safe_. As such she more than understood the anger in his voice as he growled the words. "Why. Are. You. Here?"

"Isn't it obvious? A little ambush and some of my people got hurt...so we went for the nearest safe place we knew of. Some of the men needs tending to..." As Bethany looked back to the scene she found Athenril shrugging as she took a step back so she could lean her back against the fireplace. "..and your sister, she _has_ done a good job so far, but she's hardly been the _mage_ I ordered." She shrugged in Bethany's general direction.

"I'm right here..." Bethany pointed out, unsure what to do. On the one hand she had been told _never_ to use magic unless _absolutely_ needed, it had been drummed into her since she was five and accidentally frozen her overly hot soup solid...on the other side she _really_ wanted to use it, to once more be more useful than one who knew to follow her brother's directions to the letter... "What do you need?"

Garrett scowl moved over to her...and Bethany practically felt her soul wither within her. The question had been asked though, and it was with a measure of amusement that Athenril turned to her. "Well my poor boys are hurt...you're a mage, so make them_ non-hurt_."

"My sister isn't much of a healer..." Garrett protested, the words somewhat meek as several of the so far quiet men in the room shot him glares while they nursed their injuries.

Athenril, crossing her arms over her chest, arched an eyebrow at Bethany, ignoring her brother. "Well?"

"I'll...try..." Bethany grimaced, of all the magic at her disposal, healing was..._awkward_. Still, it was better than doing nothing, so she moved towards the nearest man, a stocky Kirkwaller whose grey hair and dirty face made him look older than he was. Dropping onto her knees next to him she took his arm, grimacing at the sight of the long cut going down its length, exposing the flesh and muscles beneath, even a hint of bone where the wound had deepened. "Hold still."

The man was big, yet trembled at her touch as she took a deep breath. The energies of the weeds outside, of the fish in the nearby sea, of all the thousands in the city, of the of the rats underneath the floorboards...she drew upon it, felt it struggle and twist, unwilling to heed her command as she began drawing it into her hand. Bethany was so caught up in her work that she at first didn't even hear the whispered prayer of the man. "-serve man, and never to rule over him." Glancing up, she found the man's gaze fixed on the flickering green glow of her hand above his arm, cold sweat pouring down his forehead as his lips kept moving in a whisper. "Foul and corrupt are they. Who have taken His gift."

Feeling her heart sink, Bethany joined in, even though it hurt, she understood and _accepted_ the message. Yet there was a comfort in the Maker's words...and that was what the man needed. "And turned it against His children." The man flinched at her voice, but Bethany held onto his arm as she with renewed effort forced the energy of growth into his injury, glad that he didn't know that most came from the rats and weeds of Lowtown. "The shall be named Maleficar, accursed ones. They shall find no rest in this world."

Silence.

Then Bethany sighed in relief as she with slumped shoulders let the energy die out, finding the man's injury now nothing but a red crust over a nearly healed cut. Her father had been able to heal it all the way through and not even leave a mark behind...but that would have to do. She was already sweating from the effort, making her dress uncomfortable as it stuck to her skin. "Or beyond..."

"Erm..." The man stared at his unmade injury, seemingly embarrassed even before he looked back up at her. "...thank you."

"You're quite welcome." Bethany replied with a grunt as she put her hands on her knees and struggled onto her feet, annoyed with how light-headed she already felt._ I'm no healer, that's for sure_. _At least I'm being useful_... She shot her older brother a defiant look.

Garrett hadn't moved from where he stood, but there was something soft in his eyes as he considered her. "You are no maleficar."

Bethany nodded reluctantly as she looked away, to her next target. _I know, I'm an apostate, not that many consider there to be a difference_..._and sometimes I wonder if there actually __is__ a __difference_. T_he Maker gave us this 'gift'_..._yet since my very existence is dangerous_..._then shouldn't __all__ magic I do outside of Chantry supervision be forbidden magic_?

She moved over to the next man, a Fereldian that looked more like a skeleton than a man, the eyes in his gaunt face shining with the desperation of a man on the verge of collapse. _No doubt his payment is nothing but food_..._or_ _drugs_... Sighing, Bethany knelt beside him, banishing the thought, as well as her wondering if he had had a good life before he'd been forced to flee to Kirkwall. "Don't worry, it doesn't hurt..."

The man shrugged, a pale smile on his face, apparently not in the least worried about the touch of magic_. Probably because he's so tired_... Grabbing him by the shoulders she helped him rest his back against the wall and look at the jagged cut across his chest, it was shallow, but it seemed to have been enough to drain the man into a pale husk, his already weak body unable to manage the injury.

_This is going to take more effort_. Rolling up her sleeves, Bethany went to work.

Even so she could hear Garrett behind her growl at Athenril. "This discussion isn't finished."

Bethany shuddered in disgust as she felt Athenril's smirk. "I was hoping you'd say that..."

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for being mad enough to stand me._


	12. Chapter 12

"You _what_!"

The words were muffled by the solid oak door, but Bethany was leaning against the doorpost...and also not all that subtly inclining her head towards the door to better listen in on the conversation.

She kept her eyes looking out though, gaze sweeping over the establishment before them.

Their most recent hideout almost looked like the Hanged Man, it had many crudely made tables and chairs, a roaring fireplace, the tables were strewn with tin cups filled with bad ale and there was a faint reek of urine that no one ever acknowledged. The clientèle actually looked worse than the one in the tavern though, Fereldians couldn't even _afford_ to visit _that_ tavern, but here a full three quarters of the men and women were Fereldians if their accents were to judge._ Probably more, some have started trying to speak like Kirkwallers, I suppose to be more respected_...

Bethany didn't much care for trying to change the way she spoke, she liked her accent, and wasn't about to adopt another. Besides, if one wished to be respected in Kirkwall, one only needed money, which had become blatantly obvious now that they'd been in Kirkwall for a year.

Not that Athenril's Footpads didn't have that, despite their even and constant struggle with the Coterie. The walls were bedecked with stolen tapestries and paintings that would have looked fancy if they hadn't been obscured by the pipe-smoke that always filled their hideout, and the cellar was almost brimming with loot, much which would only sell for a pittance on the black market compared to their real price, but it was still a solid amount of gold that constantly streamed into _Athenril's _pockets.

As such Bethany was glad for what was about to happen, their work had been necessary, but all too dirty, and she had been looking forward to quitting since their very first day...

Behind the door, Garrett audibly agreed with her. "I'm ending our arrangement. One year has passed, in fact, one year and one day, our debt has been settled and me and my siblings will now take our leave."

"Y-you can't just up and _leave_!" Was Athenril sounding..._unsure_? "I need you here!"

Bethany couldn't help but turn her head towards the door to better listen in, and found herself catching Carver's eyes as her brother did the same on his side of the door. The mischievous smirk he shot her made her put a hand over her mouth before a giggle could escape.

Garrett's voice was grave though, unaware, or perhaps not caring, about the two eavesdroppers. "That is not my problem, besides, if you heed my warning and stop this war with the Coterie you will do fine."

Silence.

Bethany arched an eyebrow at Carver, who simply shrugged.

Then Athenril spoke again, venom in her voice. "You may not owe me but I _still_ know about your _sister_..."

Bethany's eyes bulged, guilt gripping her heart even as she feared Garrett's reaction, wondering if the hideout would suddenly turn into a battleground.

His reply was even though, unshaken. "And I know of your every hideout and stash, information the _Coterie_ would gladly take part in."

"You wouldn't-"

"I would." Garrett snapped. "We're done."

A low growl answered his words, surprising Bethany, she didn't think an elf was even _capable_ of such a sound... "You think I'm just going to let you walk out with that information? Let you leave me- the _organisation_!" Another growl, louder. "_No one_ says no to me!"

"You intend to stop us from leaving?" There was a hint of mockery in Garrett's voice. "You have not thought that through. How do you intend to make us work for you as prisoners when you want me leading my jailers? Besides, as you said, you _know_ of my sister, you _really_ think you can stop us from walking out?"

"She's not-"

"She'll burn this place to the ground, with you in it." Garrett snapped, making Bethany's eyes widen. _I_..._don't really want to do that_..._well maybe to __her__, but not these other people_... She glanced over at the many Footpads, finding a large group having gotten together to sing a song with more volume than tone, much to the amusement and clamouring of the others. _Of course, if my brother tells me to do it_..._I will have to_. She shuddered at the thought. _I'm no murderer_...

Silence.

Then Garrett's growl, betraying a hint of impatience. "Well?"

Silence.

Bethany looked back to Carver, exchanging a worried look.

"Go." Athenril snarled. "Get out of here you traitor, but don't you _dare_ come ask me for help or a job later on."

"I won't." The door swung open, making Bethany jump away with a guilty look on her face, though Garrett didn't seem to care as he glanced to her and then Carver. "Let's go, we're going home."

"With you." Carver responded as the twins formed up behind their older brother, though the elder twin hesitated a little before he spoke. "Erm...you _do_ know that we would get paid a share like everyone else after this first year, right?"

"I know." Garrett replied, uncaring of the many curious looks the Hawkes got from the rest of the Footpads as they moved towards the exit.

"And that that in addition to the bonuses we've usually managed to squeeze out would actually make a decent income." Carver persisted, now sounding a little annoyed. "I'm pretty sure you could have bartered yourself a _way_ larger share too..."

Garrett sighed, but replied none the less as he pushed a wide-eyed Footpad aside to reach the door, the many worried glances and stares from the men and women they were leaving behind going unnoticed. "Being in a criminal gang our family has constantly been at risk at being detected and investigated by the authorities. If they had caught us Bethany would now be in the Circle and the rest of us would be exiles in an unfamiliar land and no better off than when we first arrived, and all that is without taking this foolish war with the Coterie into account. This has been a needed risk to get into the city, but now it's no longer needed."

"I for one am glad to be done with this, it never felt right being a thief." Bethany chimed in, earning her a snort from Carver. "Well it's _true_! You can't be proud to claim to be a Hawke, descendants from nobles and now thieves in the gutter?" Ahead, Garrett pushed the door open, exposing them to bright sunlight as they stepped into the street, leaving the dark underground full of thieves behind them.

It felt good, making Bethany smile up at the sun and momentarily close her eyes.

"It's just a name, it's not who I am." Carver snorted a second time, ruining the moment and earning himself a glare from Garrett and Bethany both. "What I'm more concerned over is things like _eating;_ without a job we can't feed ourselves, and our savings aren't exactly great."

"Five silvers and four coppers." Garrett replied, apparently unfazed by the low number. _Good, that means he has a plan, I don't like going hungry_... At the thought Bethany's stomach growled, though she had had a year to get used to it, the poorer food they now had to buy didn't quite agree with her stomach. Meals in Ferelden might have been lean too, but at least they had been _fresh_. "Besides, the Chanter's board has enough honest work to keep us afloat until I can secure our contract with the dwarf...Tethras, wasn't it?"

Realising he had stopped, not to mentioned turned to speak to her, Bethany blinked away the spots of sunlight still lingering in her vision. "Huh? Yes, Bartrand, you know that already."

"_That's_ your plan?" Carver scoffed, now sounding almost upset. "You want out of the Footpads to be safe...and then immediately try to work for a man planning an expedition into the _Deep Roads_? You realise the whole reason we left Ferelden was to _escape_ the Darkspawn, right?"

Bethany glowered at her brother. It had, after all, been _she_ who had mentioned the job to Garrett, the pay was amazing in comparison to anything they'd made so far...a first step to getting mother the home she needed.

Bethany tried not to think of it, but grimaced none the less. Leandra was not doing too well...she wanted her home back from the _slavers_ that had taken residence in it, to restore their name and probably more importantly...get her children what she had never been able to, a safe place to call home and all she thought they deserved. _She keeps sending letters to the Viscount_..._but what good will that do when she can't even afford the place_? _She's just so sad when she looks at us in Gamlen's place_...

Garrett, however, seemed to take Carver's protests seriously, the man nodding as he regarded his brother. "I'm aware of the risks, but Bartrand's plan is sound, with the Darkspawn beaten in Ferelden their numbers are low. In fact most of them still seem to be on the surface, if the sailors from Amaranthine were to be believed. An empty Deep Road means we can make good time and find great treasure, meaning our substantial pay might even be crowned with a bonus."

_I_..._doubt_ _that_. Bethany had, in comparison to her brother, actually seen and heard Bartrand, if only from a distance, and he hadn't sounded like an employer who gave out bonuses. _Though the __pay will still be good_...

"Besides..." Garrett continued. "...I doubt that we'll manage to get more than government-sanctioned jobs for a while, no doubt Athenril will make getting anything else problematic, if nothing else but out of spite."_ She __did__ sound angry_... Bethany shot her brother a careful look, she had caught how Athenril had stumbled on her words about him leaving _her_, rather than the organisation, and the idea of a spiteful elf like her after his skin wasn't comforting. Garrett didn't seem all that troubled though, perhaps sure his threat about telling the Coterie all he knew would work, perhaps knowing something she didn't. "Not to mention the Templars."

Bethany shuddered, glancing about herself as the three moved out onto the streets. At the moment the dock area was fairly empty, or rather, everyone with business there was around the actual _docks_, rather than the buildings behind them...yet she still felt watched as paranoia settled in. The Templars had recently visibly increased their already formidable ranks, and there were rumours of a successful escape of several mages from the Circle, instigated by someone on the _outside_ of all things. Whether the rumours were true or not, Bethany didn't know, but the Templars had of late been out in force, even going so far as searching a few random homes in Lowtown. Which had _infuriated_ Aveline due to how illegal it was, but her protests had fallen on deaf ears.

Bethany herself had been more concerned about being _caught_. Like any apostate mage with experience she had learned to 'mask' her presence to Templars – it was well known that their training made them able to sense magic and its users, at least to a certain extent – but even though Bethany was good at keeping her 'scent' back, she doubted she would be able to hide it if standing right in front of one of them.

"Huh?" Carver grunted, confused, making Bethany feel the urge to slap the back of his head. _Eh, why not_? Her hand darted out, her brother's short hair brushing against her hand as she gave the back of his head a smack. "Hey!" He shot her an irritated look, looking mightily offended.

Amused, Bethany stuck her tongue out at him.

Luckily, their elder brother was patience made flesh and, as he usually did, ignored their bickering as he answered. "If Bethany is in the Deep Roads, the Templars won't find her, in fact they might have reduced their patrols by the time we get back."

Shooting Bethany a final scathing look, Carver looked back to his brother. "Fine, I guess you've thought of everything, _again_." Then he managed a somewhat grumpy smile. "Except how to tell mother about this plan."

"She'll understand my reasoning and why she shouldn't worry." Garrett calmly responded.

Bethany and Carver stared at him, eyebrows raised.

An awkward silence fell over them.

Cocking his head to the side and shifting his feet, their brother finally muttered. "After a few days..."

Bethany laughed.

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_Well, well, isn't __this__ interesting_...?

Having just finished his drink, which despite being more expensive – not surprising considering he was in Hightown – didn't have as good flavour as the ones in the Hanged Man, Varric had just been about to rise from his comfortable seat atop the foot of a statue of some hero nobody remember the name of and take a trip to the Blooming Rose.

Not to buy any services of course, the place was frightfully devoid of dwarven girls and good drinks, but to talk to the proprietor for some good gossip. It was amazing what dirt one could dig up about some of the great nobles in the town if you just knew how to entertain the madame. Of course Varric never actually _used_ the dirt on anyone...it was far more amusing to weave it into a story of some made up character and then tell it in the presence of the poor fellow along with a few of his or her friends and watch them squirm and try to laugh. No one got hurt – the poor sod might actually learn their lesson about giving away secrets to prostitutes – people were entertained and Varric had had his fun, everyone won, which was the way he liked to play.

In fact he had already considered weaving his current backrest into the story. '_Did you know that that statue over on fifth is actually of the long-forgotten soldier Onasi_? _It was said he was so mighty he could_...' _Hmmm_..._hope she has something juicy to use at that point_.

The thought had to take a back seat to what he saw though, a sight that made his mind smoothly slip from that of the entertainer to that of the entrepreneur.

His brother Bartrand was, much in contrast to Varric, a classic dwarf. His beard was braided into four braids, two on each side of his mouth, his hair pulled back, revealing a forehead constantly ridged in a frown. The sharp grey eyes shone with the perpetual grumpiness and greed of a dwarf born into the merchant guild, his perpetual terseness making a dwarf's general stiff walk even stiffer when it came to him.

_He really ought to learn how to relax_... Varric sighed even as his gaze moved from his brother trying to get to his house for more planning to the ones he was clearly giving the cold shoulder.

It was difficult not to recognise Hawke. He was one of the few Fereldians in Kirkwall wearing armour, and probably the _only_ one who hadn't gotten it by signing up with the Kirkwall guard. His brother was also armoured, though it barely counted since the suit had seen better days and would probably have to be discarded soon enough. His sister wasn't, though that was of little surprise, the simple dress she wore hid much of her features, though perhaps not enough considering the odd glances she was receiving, but also made her seem less of a threat, despite the power hidden within her.

Not that Varric needed to hear their accent or see the armour to recognise the Hawkes. He had heard more than enough descriptions – usually in-between insults and grumpy complaints – from his contacts in the Coterie, to know who Hawke was. Those three, but in particular the elder one, had made quite a name for themselves in the underworld. The foil of the Coterie, Hawke hadn't left much in the way of blood or destruction in his wake, only suddenly empty safe-houses and guardsmen or Templars in his wake to stop any pursuit. All in all, it was quite impressive for one who had apparently _fought_ his way from out of the jaws of the Darkspawn horde in Ferelden, a warrior, but no mere brute.

_Perfect_.

Of course, Varric had heard that Garrett had quit Athenril's gang from his contacts there, which had been a sensible move considering how the Coterie by now was considering outright assaults on the Footpads. Chaos wasn't good for their business, but some time of unrest would be better than the constant thorn in their side that the Footpads were. Still, while Varric had assumed the man would be looking for fresh employment, he hadn't thought he would be so fortunate as to find Hawke looking to work for his _brother_.

Bartrand didn't see the opportunity though, he didn't much care for Varric's reports about the underworld unless when they involved how prices might change. But unlike his brother, Varric knew there were profits to be had in _people _as well as wares...and Hawke was a rare gem.

Bartrand was apparently not agreeing. "I told you, no! Now scram, I have enough of you Fereldians hired already, I don't need more carriers."

"We were looking at the position as guards, actually. We, unlike most guards you've hired, have _experience_ with fighting Darkspawn." Was Garrett's response, the older brother's voice was measured, calm, further increasing Varric's interest. _Maybe they're not as desperate as I heard_? _Still, if the man listens to reason, he'll listen to me_. Varric deftly jumped off the statue, startling Sandal as the strange dwarf jumped from his seat, clutching another of the runes he was making.

_At least this time it didn't explode_. Varric offered the boy a grin and a pat on his strangely bald head, offered Bodahn a winning smile as the merchant looked up from his work in fright at the idea of his 'son' once more blowing their stand apart, and then headed towards the conversation ahead.

A conversation now finishing as Bartrand reached his door, slammed it open and stepped into the doorway as he shot his pursuers a glare. "Guards! We don't _need_ more guards!" _Can't afford, more like it_. Varric held back a grimace, Bartrand had even sold several family heirlooms to finance their bid for fortune, and it would _still_ not be enough. Which was _why_ Garrett was a gift from the Maker himself, a chance for them _all_ to get rich...which was Varric's favourite deal, no one cheated meant no one coming for vengeance and another friend made for any future deals. "Now go back to whatever hole you came from and bother someone who might listen!"

The door slammed shut in Garrett's face.

"Well that was..._nice_." The younger brother said with a hint of frustration, Carver, if Varric's sources were correct.

"What do we do now?" The girl, Bethany – and Varric's sources had been far more certain of that, then again most of them were _men _and even Varric knew humans would consider her beautiful – chimed in, her shoulders slumped. "The Chanter's board didn't have that much...not enough to make a good living off, that's for sure." _Oh so they __are__ that desperate_? _Guess I'll be a hero then, as I always am_... Varric smirked at the silly notion.

"If you ask me that fat bugger deserves a punch to the throat." Carver grunted, glaring at the door, as if daring the dwarf to come back out.

"My brother usually does." Varric spoke up, chuckling as he found the three siblings whirl about to look at him, Carver looking a bit embarrassed, his sister embarrassed _for_ him...and Garrett looking straight at Varric, carefully regarding him. "Allow me to introduce myself, I am Varric Tethras, the younger – and undeniably better looking – brother of Bartrand Tethras who so rudely ended your interesting proposition." Varric offered a deep bow, one hand under his chest, the other behind his back, mimicking the bow nobles lowed perfectly with an amused flicker of irony in his eyes.

When he looked back up he found Carver staring at him with an eyebrow raised in confusion, his sister on the other hand, looked delighted, the woman's face split by a wide smile as she held her hands clasped close to her chest. The older sibling had a serious look on his face though, but _not_ one of disinterest. Offering an undeniable curt bow of his head, the man spoke. "And I am-"

"Please, no need." Varric interrupted with a raised hand and a smirk. "Who, with a good ear to the ground, _hasn't_ heard about the Hawke trio and their adventures? You in particular caused quite a stir among the Coterie." Varric chuckled...and then offered the wide-eyed Bethany a reassuring smile and put his hand over his chest. "No, don't worry my lady, your secret is safe with me." He turned back to Garrett, who by now was frowning. _Better send another compliment his way then_... "Although I must admit, you did a good job at hiding her abilities, my contacts couldn't tell me outright, so I had to take an educated guess about your sister's gift, an impressive feat working in a business where information equals coin."

Garrett didn't look all that impressed by the compliment. Though his face by now had assumed a polite smile, Varric could tell it wasn't honestly meant, the man was merely playing along, perhaps worried about Varric knowing so much. _Guess the rumours about him being protective of his family are true_... "Thank you, Varric was it?" The man inched closer, cocking his head to the side. "I see you _do_ have a good ear to the ground, as you put it. However, I'm more curious about the fact you called our proposition interesting...if you don't mind me changing the subject."

_Cautious little one, aren't you_? "Of course not, the nature of your family pedigree isn't any of my business." Varric reassured him. "However, I _do_ bring up the fact that you have shown yourself, and your siblings here, to be remarkably capable for a _reason_. To be honest I think my brother is a fool not to employ you, but his way of thinking _usually_ works, which unfortunately means he never thinks he might be wrong"

"You think you could persuade your brother to hire us?" Bethany asked, the woman's smile still lingering on her face as she looked at him.

"Not...exactly." Varric admitted, scratching the back of his head as Bethany's face fell. Garrett was still paying close attention though, telling him the man knew Varric had something in mind. "You see, Bartrand wasn't lying when he said he didn't need more guards, in fact we can't _afford_ more guards and the whole expedition is on the verge of _failing_ due to all the costs."

"Then what _do_ you need?" Garrett asked.

Varric grinned at the question. _Clever one too_. "See? I _knew_ you would ask the right question." He moved closer to the three humans, smiling up at them. "What Bartrand and I need is a _partner_, one who can put more gold into the investment. Fifty gold and you would not receive your pay, but a _third_ of everything we find, it could set you _and_ your family for _life_!"

The other two siblings instantly looked to their brother, showing, as if the rumours hadn't been enough, who was the one making the calls. Garrett's eyes for one had a flicker of interest in them, but were also the ones of a man not quite sold on the idea. "Or I could be left with nothing as we find nothing but dusty old bones."

"Come now, my brother isn't acting on bad information, he might need the odd punch to the throat..." Varric shot Carver a wink, making his sister titter as the brother rolled his eyes. "...but he's not stupid, why else risk his entire family fortune and making us broke to finance the expedition?"

"He _does_ have a point, besides, I like the idea of being filthy rich...show these stuck up nobles who's something." Carver grinned even as he looked around himself and the fancy surroundings with a defiant glare.

Garrett ignored him, eyes not leaving Varric. "Suppose I accept that argument, though I expect to _see_ this information..." Varric bowed his head in agreement. It would be hard getting a copy of all the necessary information from Bartrand, but on the other hand dealing with his brother was Varric's speciality...and he was well-motivated, poverty didn't suit his lifestyle. "...I would assume that you with your information are aware that I do not have fifty gold for investing into an expedition."

"A little more than five silvers, right?" Varric asked, smirking at the way the three Hawkes looked at one another.

"Okay..._that_ was a little creepy." Carver noted, sounding a bit worried.

Varric decided to follow Garrett's example, and ignored him. "That is, anyway, an obstacle that we can overcome. As I said, I have a good ear to the ground, I hear things, things like people having _problems_, problems they'll pay well to have solved, and _you_ are good at _solving_ these problems. I'm even willing to help you solve them with this big mouth of mine or Bianca here." He shot a thumb back at his one true love strapped to his back.

"You named...your crossbow?" Bethany asked, incredulous, yet amused, the smile she was giving him not fading away.

Garrett crossed his arms over his chest, but was not yet leaving. "And for this help of yours you'll take...?"

"No charge." Varric raised his hands even as Garrett's eyebrows rose high. "Save that you promise that you'll use this money to invest in the expedition. If we both keep our end of the bargain we'll both be filthy rich by next year...and if not we both stand to lose..it's just the kind of trade I like, everyone ends up winning if they do what they should."

"Sound reasoning." Garrett agreed with a nod, the polite smile becoming slightly more genuine and relaxed his stance somewhat.

"I like to think that using a large enough carrot gets even the most stubborn of asses to move in the right direction." Varric replied with a grin, triggering a short laugh out of Bethany. _Well aren't __you__ a rain of happy sunshine compared to your brothers_...? He shot her a charming grin, making the laugh continue into a titter.

Garrett's smile became slightly _less_ genuine as he took a step closer, earning him a glare from his sister, clearly he was ridiculously protective of her, understandable, but probably a point of tension. Not that it was any of Varric's business. _Not as if I'm attracted to humans anyway_... Offering Garrett an innocent look, Varric found the man's tone at least unchanged as he offered a hand. "It sounds like you have everything planned out, fifty gold is enough?" _He's ready to accept the deal_? Varric was surprised, he had guessed it would take more convincing, a quick glance told the dwarf his siblings thought the same, but judging by that calculating look in Garrett's eyes, the man wasn't exactly taking a leap of faith, he had thought it out...

_Shame I can't seal the deal in good conscience, annoying thing, that_... Varric grimaced as he regarded the offered hand. "Well..._seventy_ would be the real price, but I know it could be bartered down to fifty if you help me find something for the expedition."

"I see." Garrett lowered the hand, a small frown on his face. "And what _is_ this something?"

"A map." Varric replied, rolling his eyes. "It's stupid really, but Bartrand knows _exactly_ where to find all this wealth from a great Thaig...only the entrance he had lined up didn't work out." Varric _still_ remembered the curses spitting from his brother's mouth at the sight of the mountain of rubble that was supposed to be a cave. "But hope's not lost, because I've heard there's actually a _Warden_ in the city, and they know _all_ about how to get into the deep roads."

"A Grey Warden! Like that elf Lynn!" Carver suddenly grinned, looking excited, which came as no surprise, despite being an elf _all_ Fereldians loved hearing about their hero defeating the great blight...it was a bright spot in an otherwise glum time, even Kirkwallers loved the story. Varric should know, he had told it quite a few times at the Hanged man.

Garrett looked less impressed. "What's a Warden doing in the city?" Varric could only offer a shrug, none seemed to know. "And more importantly, if you have such a good ear to the ground, how have you been unable to find this Warden?"

Varric managed to turn his grimace into a winning smile._ This guy's a bit too smart for his own good_..._still_,_ it's a fair question_. "Well the Coterie doesn't mix with Fereldians, which he is, and so he doesn't really register with them. And while I _have_ Fereldian contacts they know of my Coterie links and have therefore been..._unhelpful_." Varric shrugged. "Seems he's running some sort of free clinic for the sick in Darktown, mostly for these Fereldians who can't afford anything else. So people protect him out of loyalty, even those I pay don't want to tell me of him."

"Sounds like something _more_ coin would help with." Garrett dully noted, face impassive.

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" Varric chuckled with a shake of his head. "But I guess people reason that it's hard to spend money if you're dead and your soul is being ripped apart by demons. He hasn't threatened them as I understand it, but they still fear him as much as they're loyal and love him, superstition and all that I'm guessing..."

"He's a mage." Garrett instantly noted, making Varric nod a yes, behind the man his sister looked away, grimacing. "And you're thinking that me, _being_ a Fereldian, and having many contacts with Fereldians in Lowtown and Darktown from my time as a Footpad will be able to find what you have not? _And_ convince him to part with a map for us?"

"_Exactly_." Varric smiled. "A map giving you twenty gold off the price of a partnership isn't too shabby, is it?"

"Quite right." Garrett replied with a thoughtful frown, looking down at the ground as he stroked the untended stubble covering his chin. "Hmmm...it sounds doable, I can't make promises, but I'll try."

"And I'll _gladly_ help." Varric replied with a winning smile.

For a moment Garrett just looked at him, then over to the mechanical wonder of a crossbow on his back...then back to Varric. "I suppose it would be good for our...partnership, yes, do come along."

With that, the man turned around and started walking, making a surprised Varric have to jog to catch up, even while struggling with the grin on his face. _Huh, this might just work out, wealth, here we come_...

"So..." Next to him Carver spoke up, sounding somewhat puzzled as he regarded Varric. "...what happened to your beard?"

"Carver!" Bethany nearly shrieked at her brother, who didn't look all that ashamed over the crude question, though then the girl hesitated. "Though...erm...I kind of wondered that too..."

Varric only laughed though. "It fell onto my chest, can't you tell?"

8

8

8

_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for dealing with my crap._


	13. Chapter 13

"Never thought I'd go here _willingly_..." Varric muttered, making Garrett nod in agreement.

The Viscount's Keep was large and ominous from the outside, all sharp corners and fortifications that clearly weren't there for show. Yet inside it was surprisingly open, the arrow slits high above not only worked as a defence, but let much sunlight into the keep itself, illuminating gilded pillars and richly decorated archways that held up an immense vaulted ceiling. The light made the barely visible rafters nearly disappear in all the light and splendour covering the walls, as well as illuminating the expensive clothing on every person they saw.

Garrett was surprised at the level of activity, somehow he had expected..._more_.

Sure, he heard someone at a distance complain about his work-load, but considering the man seemed content on staying with his little gathering of friends instead of actually _working_ made his complaint somewhat hollow. Instead the place reminded Garrett of the Chantry back in Lothering. Everyone spoke in polite whispers, reading, working and writing at a calm pace, giving the atmosphere an almost serene feel to it as tasks were orderly and without haste; completed by various clerks working through their daily routine with the ease and contentment that came out of practice

Garrett wasn't entirely sure why Varric wouldn't ever go to the Viscount's keep willingly, but his own reason was painfully apparent the moment he moved towards the main set of stairs. On each side of the stairs a fully armoured guardsman stood, hands warily resting on the pommels of their swords as the eyes within their helmets glared at him and his family, willing but unable to do something about their intrusion.

While there was no evidence of any kind, Garrett had, being such a pivotal part in Athenril's Footpads, been unable to keep all suspicion from him and his kin. As such the Kirkwall guardsmen always eyed him with suspicion, and only the fact that their investigating efforts were laughable had kept them from getting any evidence on him on more than one occasion. For the guardsmen it was surely frustrating to see him waltz into the very heart of their operations, he wouldn't be surprised if some saw it as a direct attack at their pride.

_Wonder why they put the Kirkwall Guard barrack in the keep anyway and not somewhere more central_? _Maybe the Viscount that introduced them wished for some personal protection as well_? _Maker, I wish we could afford books on the subject_..._or __any__ books, in fact_. Garrett suppressed the curiosity, not to mention the longing to simply feel real paper crackle under his fingers, to uncover something he had always wondered about...and instead glanced at Varric.

As a general rule Garrett found people offering help with 'no strings attached' and selling some idea to get rich quick to be despicable. They were fools at best, charlatans at the worst. But despite the fact that the dwarf should have struck Garrett as something not worth his time, Garrett had a good feeling about Varric...there was just something...disarming about the man's smile.

_Bethany sure is delighted with him_... Garrett scowled, he didn't like his sister getting too comfortable with Varric as a friend, it would make any future decisions...difficult.

For fact of the matter was that Varric's no strings attached offer really _didn't_ have any strings to it. Sure, the Hawke name would be further drawn into the mud and Varric and his brother didn't seem like people you wanted as enemies, but Garrett was well aware that if he found the risks too great he would simply call off their cooperation, it would be regrettable, but would still mean they left richer than they were before.

The offer was _tempting_ though, Varric had been right about that, if they all did their parts they could all get rich...a good deal. The thought of the riches wasn't as enticing as what it _signified _though; the idea of his family being safe, completely and utterly _safe_...Garrett could barely imagine it. _To finally relax_... He nearly sighed with longing.

Still, if that didn't happen Garrett was more than happy to take all the jobs Varric seemed willing to throw his way and keep up the pretence of cooperation; anything to keep them from starving was welcome.

Varric glanced up at him, making him realise his gaze had lingered too long. "What?" The dwarf's eyebrow shot up. "Do I have something on my face?"

_Dammit_. "Well..."

Fortunately, Carver saved him. "I can tell you what's _not_ on your face, that beard of yours." If it wouldn't have given Garrett away, he would have given his brother a grateful look, as it was he steered his steps towards the guards barrack, happy to let his siblings turn the conversation away from Garrett having to say anything.

Behind him, Bethany was giggling. "_Carver_...!" The tone was meant to be chastising, but it failed completely.

"Kid, stop embarrassing yourself." Varric snorted, smugness in his voice. "Being jealous of my chest hair is natural, but to attack my lack of a beard, that would hide my undoubtedly handsome jaw, is just sad. Just get over the fact that you can't compete with this dwarf and life will be much easier."

Carver spluttered and Bethany chuckled while Garrett, keeping himself focused at the task at hand, only let a little sliver of amusement flutter within him as he guided them towards the Guard barrack._ Will be good to see Aveline again, it's been too long_. He lengthened his strides, Bethany might find Aveline 'nice but dull', but Garrett _liked_ the predictability, it wasn't often one met a person willing to stick to her principles through whatever life threw at you, it was something to respect.

"You there, halt." A woman standing in full armour by the doorway held up an open palm at him, the eyes in her helmet narrowed. "Civilians aren't allowed in the barracks unless on matters of urgency, state your business."

"Brennan, it's okay." Aveline's voice cut through the low murmur behind the guard before Garrett could reply, the clatter of armoured feet approaching giving away her approach. "They're with me."

The guards-woman shot Garrett a final look, then glanced over at Carver with something less than professionalism, making Garrett shift between the two before the boy got any ideas about flirting with a woman that could well land them in jail. It earned him a glare from the woman, but then she simply shrugged and turned to walk into the barracks. "Very well, you talk to them and guard the door then? I need some grub."

"Sure." Aveline appeared in the doorway, giving the other a woman a pat on the back before turning to Garrett with a genuine smile. "I'll be, Hawke, it's been too long." She offered a gauntleted hand. "I saw you approach the keep, but wasn't sure I was seeing right."

"Aveline, it's good to see you, seems you've settled in nicely here." Garrett replied with a polite smile, clasping the woman's forearm as she did the same to him.

He already knew she had. While he had been forced to keep the family at a distance from Aveline due to her profession he had easily noted a slight increase in efficiency among the guards. Her own patrols in particular were dangerous to the Footpads, but it had spread among the rest of the guards. It wasn't so much that there had been any drastic changes, but more that she had lead by example, making the other guards try just a bit harder.

It had been a strange cat and mouse game. A game where the rest of the patrols were still easily avoided, but where those lead by Aveline had been a real thorn in Garrett's side, despite the fact that Aveline really _didn't_ want to catch them, as far as he had been able to judge. After all they'd been through together he could understand she felt indebted to him and didn't want to arrest someone who had no option but to commit crimes, but she had tried none the less, because she believed in the law in a city where it was barely maintained at all.

Garrett could respect that.

"Not easily, but yes." Aveline replied, letting go of his arm as she nodded for them to move towards a corner of the room. "And considering reports are saying the Footpads have lost some subtleness in their operations, I'm going to guess you're no longer with them?"

Garrett hesitated for half a second, unsure if admitting his past job was such a good idea, but no one but Aveline was really in earshot, and she didn't seem about to arrest him. "Our debt was paid, so I got out as soon as possible." He shrugged, concealing how happy he was for it.

Carver was actually right, they _could_ have stayed a bit longer, gotten a larger share and earned quite a lot of coin, it would have been a good investment. Garrett made no excuses though, he genuinely believed the risks outweighed the gain, if only by a little. But in addition he hadn't been able to stomach the idea of being with Athenril even one more time.

He couldn't regret his 'decision', or rather the fact that he had surrendered to Athenril's demands out of fear of his family's safety, that it might have helped them earn a little more in the way of bonuses hadn't hurt either. Yet when it came down to it, Athenril had used information and power to coerce him into something he hadn't wanted, it had been, without sugar-coating it, repeated rapes.

The first time had been the most demeaning, where his own inexperience had shown so clearly that the elf had laughed at him, but the following times were little better, repeated blows to his self-esteem that left him disgusted with himself, something the elf seemed to have _enjoyed_.

It hadn't exactly been the way he'd imagine he'd lose his virginity, nor how he'd learn the art of 'love'...but the deed had been done and he would have to accept it. _Besides, losing it to save my family_..._there's no worthier way, right_? The thought rang a bit hollow, even in his own mind.

He was glad Aveline didn't seem to notice the shame that felt as if it was stuck to him like a second skin, her nod pleased. "Good on you, I knew you'd make the right call." She grimaced. "I'm..._glad_ you got me out of that debt...I...owe you for that, and for getting me out of Ferelden..._and_ giving me a place to stay those first few weeks..." She cocked her head to the side and glared at the ceiling with a sigh. "Some self-sufficient woman I was."

"Everyone needs help once in a while." Garrett replied. "Besides, we helped each other back in Ferelden if I remember correctly."

"Indeed, so what can _I_ do for _you_?" Aveline smiled, amused at his surprised look as she crossed her arms over her armoured chest. "Oh come now, we _all_ know Hawke _never_ goes anywhere without a plan, so spit it out, I'm all ears." She glanced at Garrett's side, eyeing up Varric with no surprise what so ever. "I'm going to assume it's about Varric here and his brother's little expedition? Heard you're trying to hire on to their expedition."

"Of course you did." Now it was Garrett's turn to smile, if only slightly, at Aveline's surprise. "A suggestion; if the Guard is going to have informers in Hightown they should dress them up better and hire more of them, if you see the same faces in strikingly dirty clothing in _Hightown_ you notice it."

"As if the Guard could afford more informers in Hightown, let alone _Lowtown_." Aveline snorted, posture tensing, revealing some of her frustration, as she continued. "I swear, we can afford nice parties and shiny equipment, but the Darkspawn will take us all before the Captain spends more than the minimum on training, hiring and proper patrol-schedules. The Guard wasn't created to look nice on parades, but to be out on the streets and be a force to be reckoned with, even among the Guard only a few still seem get that..."

"Seems you have plans." Varric noted, not with a little amusement. "I suppose it would take an outsider to point at all the blemishes, Kirkwallers are so used to the Guard's inefficiency that they barely notice it any more. Sort of like the garbage or the Coterie wanting protection-money, it's just the same old smell and another tax."

"Well I won't stand for it." Aveline replied with an angry snort. "And don't think I'll let you get away with dragging Garrett into more law-breaking, I know you have your fingers in far too many jars."

"All perfectly legal, I'm good with papers that way." Varric chuckled.

"Well..." Aveline sighed and looked back to Garrett, clearly frustrated. "I trust you know what you're doing, although going down into the Deep Roads sounds suicidal to me, we left Ferelden to get away from the Darkspawn you know."

"That's what _I_ said!" Carver exclaimed far too loudly, the echo making dozens of people going about their business shoot him angry glares.

"_Anyway_...what can I do for you?"Aveline turned away from shooting Carver a disapproving look back to Garrett.

Who in turn shrugged. "I have had difficulty finding someone, a Warden more specifically, figured you knew of him; mage, Fereldian, hides in Darktown?"

It had actually been frustrating. Garrett had a lot of connections in Darktown and Lowtown, men and women, elves, dwarves and humans, beggars, prostitutes, merchants , pawn-brokers and thugs. With such a wide spectrum of contacts within the lower reaches of Kirkwall's society one could learn much by using the right incentives. Yet Garrett had to his surprise found himself unable to make headway at every turn.

It was surprising, but even the lowliest beggars, on the point of starvation, had refused the coppers he offered, apparently ready to protect the mage they spoke so highly of from any possible threat. Some of the thugs had even gone as far as _threatening_ him, which was shocking considering how much they respected him for his fair treatment of them. Then there was the fear that Varric had spoken of...a few had visibly paled at the mention of the Warden, as if the memory somehow scared them, or perhaps the possibility of what he might do to them. Quite a few had also refused him based on Athenril's orders, unsurprisingly she was aiming at making life difficult for him.

So Garrett hadn't much to go on. He knew the Warden was a man, a mage, and there was something strange about him beyond his magic, something that seemed to scare even those he had made better.

It wasn't much.

"Ah, that one." Aveline nodded, making Garrett breathe a sigh of relief. "I've heard of him, but haven't been able to come into contact, people are being careful about letting anyone who might do him harm get near him."

"And you wouldn't?" Garrett asked, arching an eyebrow.

Aveline grimaced. "Being a mage outside the Circle is _technically_ illegal..." She shot the nervous-looking Bethany a glance. "...but the _Templars_ are the ones supposed to enforce that rule, so I see no reason to involve myself in it. Besides, a man running a free clinic in Darktown for my countrymen? Sounds like something _good_ for the city; the poor need all the help they can get, and there is precious little of _that_ in Kirkwall. So no, I wouldn't do him harm, but _you_ try convincing people of that while wearing the armour of the Guard."

"But you know a way to get to him." Varric guessed, taking the words straight out of Garrett's mouth.

"I do, won't be easy though." Aveline replied.

"Nothing good ever is." Garrett muttered, making the woman nod in agreement.

"Anyway, I know of a..._woman_ who knows of his location." The way Aveline grimaced at the word suggested she didn't quite find it fitting for the person in question. "Fereldian, but looks like a Rivaini, fancies herself a captain without owning a ship. I've investigated her due to her many shady deals but found nothing solid to go on, name of Isabela, though no one seems to know her surname. She knows where this Warden is, seems she's been treated by him, not surprising considering her ways." Another grimace. "Hangs out in the Hanged man most of her days, though how she can afford the ale I don't understand."

"Sounds like an interesting character." Varric muttered with a low whistle, then looked up at Garrett. "I'm betting she'll make us jump through hoops to get the information."

"I'm a good jumper." Garrett shrugged, making Varric smirk.

"She's struck me as a selfish prig, no loyalty to the Warden there, you'll get what you want if she gets what she wants." Aveline's voice was filled with scorn. "I'm coming with you, I'd like to see this Warden, not to mention make sure this Isabela doesn't screw you over."

Garrett glanced over at his siblings , then Varric, then over to Aveline._ What a strange group we'll seem_... He shrugged though. _Better safe than sorry_. "Very well, you can come."

Aveline simply brushed past him as she started marching for the door. "I don't remember asking."

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for never failing to deliver._


	14. Chapter 14

The Hanged Man was a mixed experience.

On the one hand it lay in Lowtown, stank of stale ale and vomit and sported some less than reputable customers. On the other there was a warm and welcoming atmosphere, it wasn't too dirty and it was known to be – despite it's location – one of the best inns in Kirkwall. The fact that the ale was supposed to be cheap but good, the beds warm and that the owner had no tolerance for fighting also helped make it a step up from its competitors.

"Ah, I love this place, have a permanent room even." Varric drew a deep breath, a smile on his face. "It has everything you want, if you know where to look."

"It's a hive of scum and villainy." Aveline snorted, frowning as the customers crowding around tables.

"Exactly." The dwarf replied, amused. "Just imagine all the possibilities."

Ignoring the way Aveline was now frowning at _Varric_, Garrett let his gaze sweep over the establishment. He'd been there a couple of times on business with the Footpads, and as such he didn't draw many glances despite leading such an odd group. Even the fact that they were armed and armoured went unnoticed; everyone in the Hanged Man was armed in some fashion after all, as such anyone breaking the owner's rule about violence could expect to face the customers _enforcing_ the rule...they liked the place that much.

With that in mind, Garrett actually found a certain reassurance at the sight of so many armed men and women, ever since Athenril's little stunt with her injured people stumbling into Gamlen's house there were few places one could consider safe. Still, he wasn't there to appreciate the 'Hanged Man militia', as Carver had called them, and instead looked for a Rivaini woman that could fit Aveline's description. "So where is this Isabela? Can you see her?"

"Right where one would expect her." Aveline grunted, pointing at the rectangular counter over at the far left corner of the inn.

Garrett blinked as he found who she was pointing at.

The woman was sitting at the corner, facing the counter as she nursed a surprisingly clean half-empty glass of ale. Her dark leather boots were worn and reached up to mid-thigh, which did little to conceal the fact that she wasn't wearing any _trousers_. Instead she only wore a white tunic cut dangerously high up her thighs, revealing tantalizing dark Rivaini skin, it was also dangerously low at the front, making her exceedingly large breasts look as if they were ready to spill out of her tunic at any moment.

Her hair was long and swept back by a blue scarf, revealing a dizzying amount of golden and – in Garrett's opinion – gaudy jewellery that couldn't quite take your attention away from the pleasant-looking face and auburn eyes that even from a distance seemed to twinkle with exciting mischief.

Sighing, Aveline nudged his side with an elbow, making Garrett blink once more before he remembered himself and smacked the back of his hand into Carver's chest, making his brother close his mouth with an audible click even as he shot Garrett a glare.

Now pulled out of his staring at what quite frankly struck him as an _invitation_ rather than _clothing_, Garrett shrugged; now that he got a second look at the woman he couldn't help but verbalize his first _real_ thought of the sight. "A bit..._much_, isn't it?"

"I'd say _little_, and that would be me being nice." Aveline grumbled. "Now let's go talk to her before I change my mind."

Manoeuvring past the tables and patrons without causing a trouble with such a large group proved a bit problematic with the inn being so full, but soon enough Garrett and his group found themselves behind the Rivaini woman. "Excuse me? Are you Isabela?"

Turning around on her stool, the woman's arms moved up to rest on the counter along with her back as her right leg moved to cross over her left, making even Garrett struggle not to look at it. Smirking, the woman's eyes twinkled as her hungry gaze swept over Garrett, the slightly blushing Carver, and then the suddenly crimson-faced Bethany. "Well, aren't _you_ a good looking lot?" Her gaze moved over to Varric, and a delicate eyebrow rose. "And a dwarf too? Can't say it would be my first time, but sounds like a fun combination to try again, I'm game."

Garrett scowled at her. _I have a feeling I won't like you very much_. "We're not here about...that."

Next to him, Bethany shuddered, voice a low mutter. "The mental image will give me scars for life..."

"Oh." Isabela's mouth formed a pout, though it didn't seem as if she meant it. "How dull, then what are you-" Her eyes finally registered Aveline as the guardswoman crossed her arms over her chest. Instantly the Rivaini's pout disappeared, being replaced by a sigh and a roll of her eyes. "Oh for...you again? I told you already. One, prostitution isn't illegal. Two, I have no control over what some prostitutes steal from distracted clients. Three, I don't conduct business with prostitutes." Again, her eyes twinkled. "Well...not business where _I'm_ the one getting gold, anyway."

"I'm not here on guard business." Aveline sighed, then shot a nod towards Garrett. "I'm with him."

"I have a hard time imagining you with _anyone_..." The Rivaini chuckled, then looked back to Garrett before the guardswoman could retort. "Anyway, who are you?"

"Garrett Hawke." Garrett replied, forcing himself to offer a hand. After all, politeness was free and could get you far, though he didn't relish getting friendly with a woman that was already rubbing him the wrong way.

Isabela's handshake was as brief as it was non-committal. "Hawke...that rings a bell...wait..." Isabela's eyebrows rose high as she turned her gaze to Aveline. "You're with _him_!" She grinned. "And here I thought you were one of those few incorruptible guardsmen...shows what I know, huh?"

Aveline visibly bristled, as did Garrett at the implicated dirtiness of his family name, but before either could reply, Varric stepped forth. "Actually, Hawke is no longer a Footpad, he's working with me now, Varric Tethras, at your service." The bow he offered was so immaculate that it would put a nobleman to shame, making Isabela smirk, as well as soothing some of Bethany's blushing as she grinned at the sight. "You see, we are planning a little picnic in the Deep Roads, but we happen to lack a way to get there...my brother is quite besides himself as you can understand, he's been up for days planning the whole thing. So as you can understand I – as a good brother – am trying to find someone who could help us with this little obstruction."

_What_? Garrett looked down at Varric, finding the strange, though admittedly not entirely incorrect, description of their problem somewhat confusing. _What was the point of saying it like that_? As if hearing him, the dwarf shot him a brief smirk.

Isabela laughed, shaking her head. "Ah well, why didn't you say so!" Still chuckling, she held Varric's gaze as she continued. "You want to see the Warden, and you know I know where he is..." She shot Garrett an amused glance. "Really, you should have just said so right from the start."

_What_? Garrett was pretty sure the two were making fun of him, or perhaps just sharing some strange joke, either way he wasn't really one who cared for such things. As such, he found his scowl deepen as he spoke. "I'm sure I should. Now, can you help us?"

"Of course I can, spoilsport." Isabela retorted, exchanging an amused glance with Varric. When she looked back to Garrett she got something clever in her eyes, something Garrett had seen far too many times in Athenril's, making him groan inwardly, despite having expected it. _Here we go_..._should have known Varric would be right_. "But he did a favour for me...and I'm not in the habit of repaying such help with endangering the helper...unless the ones asking me to do such a _heinous_ thing are willing to offer an equally larger or larger favour in return, that is."

"How loyal of you." Aveline dryly commented, clearly disgusted with Isabela's blatant selfishness.

Garrett himself wasn't all too thrilled about it either, but he wasn't about to argue over Isabela's priorities when they were about to be of help to him. "I take it you have a favour of fitting size in mind?"

"Indeed I do, handsome one." Isabela's hands left the counter as she put them together, fingers drumming against one another as she smirked. "You see, I have a problem...well, not really a problem so much as it is a meeting at the docks tomorrow evening."

"I see..." Garrett replied, eyeing the woman warily, suddenly worried.

"Thing is, I don't trust this man I'm meeting. He's the worst kind, a murderer, slaver, kidnapper and smoker." _How does __that__ even compare to the other_- "You'd love him Aveline, that is, to kick his face in."

The woman in question was scowling. "I could get some guards rounded up and have him arrested, if you have some _proof_, that is."

"I do, but that won't cut it." Isabela waved off the offer. "If you did he would soon be out, that is, if you could catch him. Besides, I don't need him temporarily distracted, I need him out of the picture."

Aveline and Garrett exchanged a look, the woman didn't look all that pleased, nor was Garrett, who turned back to Isabela with a frown. "We are not assassins."

"Well I'm not hiring _assassins_, I'm hiring _bodyguards_." Isabela corrected with a roll of her eyes, when Aveline and Garrett exchanged another look, she sighed. "Look, I don't know if it'll come down to violence, but if it does I'd like to have some backup, besides, with you there he'll be less happy to do what he usually does. No, what I want to do is to talk to him, convince him to lay off me, killing him works just as well, but if he'll willingly leave, so much the better."

"Fair enough..." Garrett warily replied, sensing something was going unsaid. "But why does he want to meet with you, and maybe even kill you?"

"Well that's not really part of the the deal, is it?" Isabela smirked at him, though then groaned at the unamused look on his face. "_Fine_. Look, this guy's named Hayder, who works for Castillion...who I _happen_ to owe quite a lot of money. And yes, while that's not good of me I don't see why I'd have to die because of it, murder is a lot more serious than an unpaid debt, wouldn't you say, big girl?"

Aveline stiffened at the name, but didn't comment as she scowled at Isabela. "And I'm sure you were completely innocent in your dealings with this Castillion..."

"More so than you'd guess." Isabela replied with a tired chuckle, then shrugged. "But that's the past, not important. What _is_ important that this Hayder is the only one of Castillion's men currently in Kirkwall, and I need him off my back until I can repay this debt, which is very difficult to do if I'm dead."

"So we guard your person tomorrow when you meet this Hayder and you'll tell us where the Warden is?" Garrett asked, the wariness not yet leaving him. The look he had caught in Isabela's eyes had been the same as Athenril's, the one telling him she had plans beyond those she told him...it made him uneasy. _Yet we have no other leads left, looking elsewhere could take weeks_..._I hate not having options_. Aveline and Bethany didn't look all that eager either while Varric's face was deliberately neutral, only Carver seemed somewhat taken by the idea, and that didn't exactly fill Garrett with confidence...

"Better, I'll _take_ you to him." Isabela replied with a grin and offered her hand with an arched eyebrow that seemed to scream at Garrett that she was deceiving him, and that he could do nothing about it. "Deal?"

_Yes, I definitely dislike you_. Feeling like a fool, Garrett took the hand, finding her handshake surprisingly strong compared to the previous time. "Deal."

"Good, and don't worry..." Isabela turned on her stool, sweeping up her glass from the counter as her she chuckled. "...this'll be fun."

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"Is it much further?"

Garrett felt nervous. The docks were a dangerous place, doubly so at night, and though he knew the streets well and was accompanied by capable people, he would not be so foolish as to consider himself safe. Aveline had, thankfully, insisted she come with him to escort Isabela to her, adding a strong sword arm to their group. He had also brought Maric along instead of letting the dog guard the house as usual, the fact that he had gotten away with it without mother suspecting anything was a testament to Bethany's skill at distracting Leandra. Why the woman thought her daughter needed to be held and caressed for half an hour just because she'd claimed to feel faint was beyond Garrett, but as long as it worked to his advantage, who was he to argue?

_Guess she still thinks Bethany as a frail little flower_... Garret shot her sister a glance, there was admittedly a softness to her, the impression that she was soft-spoken and gentle, a lady of virtue who somehow wasn't a noble, all of which she _was_. Yet she wore the leather armour Garrett had scrounged up, though too much of it was simply too soft and thin to be considered armour, as comfortably as her brothers wore their armour, and the staff she held was marked from where her hands had held onto it as they cast their destructive magics.

_I wish you didn't have to use it, I wish the magic wasn't needed, that the armour isn't_-

"Not far now." Isabela interrupted Garrett's thought, drawing his attention back to the woman at the front, not to mention making him frown at her.

Isabela didn't make sense. Clearly, if what she had said was true, _she_ was the one who had the most to fear of the imminent meeting, yet _she_ was the one of them not wearing any armour, instead strutting forward in her usual 'clothing' as if there was nothing to fear, not to mention the fact that she was _unarmed_.

The foolishness of it baffled Garrett.

As did his own foolishness of accompanying her into a street he was well aware for being a favourite spot for gangs to use as an ambush site, something Hayder had probably picked up on as well. _Archers on the roofs maybe_?_ We'd have to retreat and move to a corner, find cover and_-

"Don't worry about it." Isabela spoke up, sounding as cheerful as if they were simply taking a stroll as she seemingly read his mind. "Hayder isn't one for ambushes, it's not his style, he's more of a...overwhelming force kind of person."

"How comforting." Varric dryly commented, taking the words right out of Garrett's mouth even as the human and dwarf exchanged a worried look. During their preparations Varric had voiced a certain worry about the plan; he had basically agreed with Garrett that while the deal seemed dangerous, they had precious little choice...neither had particularly liked the whole thing.

"I think he'll find that some of us also are more than a match in that department." Carver growled. Despite Garrett's attempts to calm him, or perhaps in _defiance_ of them, Carver was looking forward to the meeting, openly hoping for it to come to blows. Perhaps Garrett shouldn't be surprised, during all their time with the Footpads there had thankfully been very little need to draw their blades in anything more than for intimidation. So Carver, who's strength _lay_ in combat, had therefore never gotten a chance to shine, a need of his that both his siblings were painfully aware of.

"At least in terms of the first part." Bethany snickered, making the muscles around Garrett's lips twitch even as Varric chuckled. "Oh brother, don't pout...I'm sure they'll find you _very_ scary, but remember, we're not here to fight."

"Exactly." Isabela chimed in, though the cheerful note held a dark undertone Garrett didn't like, in fact, he found his worry increasing with every step_. I'm the one with the plan usually, not her, and her plan doesn't strike me as safe, she's too casual about the risks_..._Maker, maybe it's better if we turn around and_-

"Ah, and there he is." _Dammit_. Looking back up, Garrett found Isabela come to a stop in the middle of the street, hands on her hips and resting her weight on her left leg as she observed the shadows ahead. The _many_, _moving_, shadows. "Hayder? Come into the light you dull sod, you were never one for appearing mysterious."

_Sod_? Garrett arched an eyebrow, those were not exactly _diplomatic_ words, words one should use if one wanted to get _out_ of a fight...

"Isabela, you showed up, how surprisingly brave of you." The voice was gruff, and fitted quite well with the man stepping into the moonlight. His face sported a weak chin and receding brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, making it look as if someone had grabbed a hold of the top and bottom of his face and stretched it backwards, making his cheeks fatter than one would think of a man with his athletic build. Dressed in thick leather with metal studs the man gave of a violent vibe, as if the way he fingered the sword and dagger in his belts wasn't enough of a hint of his mindset. "And you brought friends, how cute, always one to have others clean up your messes, are you?"

Garrett only listened with half an ear as he stayed a few steps behind Isabela, analysing the situation with a sinking heart.

Indeed there didn't seem to be any ambush, the low buildings on either side had the doors barred and shutters closed, nor did he catch any sight of movement on the roofs above. Though that was good news, the bad news lay straight ahead of them. Hayder was not alone, and as Garrett watched, more people stepped into the light. Humans, men and women, all armoured in worn leather armour reinforced with either metal studs or rings, some even sporting pieces of chainmail in vital spots. Several sported scars, but all looked experienced, their weapons mostly consisted of two-handed axes, greatswords and a mixture of maces and hatchets. They were clearly mercenaries, ready to fight and die for coin, and Garrett worried these ones were eager to do the former without fearing the later.

Mostly he was worried about the fact that there were _twenty-two_ of them.

_With Hayder that makes them outnumber us more than three to one_..._that is, if you count Isabela, I doubt nothing but her attitude will do much good in a fight though_. _We do have flexibility on our side though, Varric gives us range, as does Bethany, bet they won't expect her magic either, which will be an equalizer_..._no, I don't like this, our best hope is to look too dangerous to attack and get this resolved quietly_.

"Sort of like you did before." The man continued, apparently venting, judging by the bitter tone. "Do you have _any_ idea how long I chased those slaves for? I didn't even catch _half_ of them. Hayder should have killed you right there, but then again, he _does_ have a soft spot for you."

_Wait_..._slaves_? Garrett turned his attention to the conversation, confused. He found Isabela glowering at the man. "They are _people_, Hayder!" She made a sharp gesture, though her voice carried a hint of melancholy. "_No one_ should be forced to live at the whims of another..." Garrett couldn't help but look over at Aveline, who looked as puzzled as him as she glanced back._ I didn't picture Isabela as one helping another_... "Even _I_ have standards." _Ah_..._fair_ _enough_. "Besides, it's not a _soft_ spot he has for me..." _And we're back to the sex-jokes, delightful_...

Hayder was equally unamused. "And how do you repay him for his mercy? By messing up, _again_." He crossed his arms over his chest. "So he sends me to this Maker-forsaken pit-hole of a city to clean up your mess, _again_. And now we stand here...and you have yet to meet your payment, and I don't have to remind you what Castillion wants me to do if you can't pay this time..."

"You could try, you wouldn't survive." Isabela scoffed, making Hayder's eyes flash in anger even as Garrett felt panic fill his heart._ Is __this__ how you try to resolve things peacefully_! "But come now, you know Castillion won't be happy if he doesn't get what he wants, and it wasn't _my_ fault the ship sunk. But I know the relic's here, and _when_ I find it, you _will_ have it. Simple, isn't it?"

"You _know_ that's not good enough." Hayder growled, his hands moving back to his weapons, making everyone on the street tense. "You were to deliver the relic today, _no_ excuses. Yet here you stand, no relic and _all_ excuses." He narrowed his eyes. "That tells me that you're either trying to get a hold of it to sell it to someone else, or that you're too incompetent to get the job done. Either way, Castillion doesn't care, you don't have the relic on you, you die."

"Wait." Garrett had to speak up, his fear of the imminent clash forcing him to step up next to Isabela. Carefully gauging the distance to Hayder and his men he ignored Isabela's annoyed glare and instead focused on Hayder's frowning face. "Surely, if it's the relic you seek..." _She never said anything about a relic, wonder what it is_? "...then killing my employer, the one who's on its trail, would be counter-intuitive. While your Castillion might be pleased about her death, he won't be pleased about having lost the relic. If you don't trust Isabela, then surely you should team up with her, keeping an eye on her to make sure she finds the relic and gives it to you in exchange for her life."

"Him? Following me around everywhere I go?" Isabela muttered at Garrett with a glare, clearly angry, surprising him. _Surely it's better than death_? _Or risking a battle here_?

"And why would I trust her not to shove a dagger between my ribs?" Hayder retorted, he didn't let go of his weapons, but nor was he attacking.

"Ohhh...sounds like fun!" Isabela grinned at Hayder, making Garrett glare at her in turn. _Are you __trying__ to get into a fight_!

"_Because_..." Garrett emphasised the word, trying to draw Hayder's attention away from Isabela's foolishness by holding the man's gaze. "...you'll have your fine mercenaries here at hand, she won't dare hurt you, nor betray you. You'll both have a good trade, and you'll return to Castillion with the relic, making you the hero."

The corner of Hayder's lips lifted at that, he clearly _liked_ that idea. Isabela was less humoured though. "And what would keep _him_ from killing _me_ when the deal is done?"

"Of the two of us, _I'm_ the one who's never gone back on my word, so _I'm_ the one we're going to trust here, girl."Hayder snarled, yet the anger was lacking in it, he was _thinking_ about the deal, and Garrett was struggling not to breathe a sigh of relief.

"Then it's a deal?" Garrett queried, pushing the issue. "You get the relic and Isabela gets to-"

"_Boooring_..." Isabela interrupted his words with a yawn as she stretched, hand reaching back into her hair...and pulling forth a small dagger. _Huh_?_ What is she_-

A moment later the woman lunged and released the dagger...and Hayder screamed out in as much pain as surprise as he stumbled back into his mercenaries, clutching at his cheek. "You treacherous bitch!"

"Wait-"

Garrett's desperate attempt to calm things had no chance against Hayder's enraged shout. "Get them!"

Chaos ensued.

Maric was first into the melee, the hound springing from his seated position into a full charge with the speed only a Mabari was capable of. Slamming into a mercenary before the man could even draw the blade on his back, the dog knocked the man onto his back, pinning his weapon against the ground even as Maric silenced the burgeoning scream by ripping the man's throat out with his powerful jaws.

Surprisingly, Isabela was not far behind, two long and thin daggers practically flying out of their hiding place in her boots and into her hands. Rushing forth, she leapt over the Mabari, her left foot connecting solidly with the gut of another mercenary, doubling him over...before she slammed both daggers into his back as she landed, sending him to the ground with a dull thump.

To the far right the mercenaries were rushing forth in force, only for a fireball to strike the foremost square in the face. The ensuing explosion sent pieces of her and the man behind her flying, but also made the three behind them stumble backwards, the shock clear in their eyes.

Garrett, cursing loudly, forced himself to move, to exploit the opening. _Damn_! Charging over the scorched ground, Garrett met the first to recover from the shock with his shield, knocking the still winded woman onto her back even as he ran onwards. _Rivaini_! The next two swung at him with their great axes, but the closest man never finished, the weapon falling out of his hands as Garrett decisively buried his sword into his gut while blocking the other man's axe with his shield, the impact jarring his shoulder. _Idiot_!

The mercenary jumped back before Garrett's freed sword could hit him, his return swing a horizontal one that struck Garrett's shield with frightening force, tearing the top part of the metal bindings to it off in a shower of splinters as the tree beneath shattered.

The man hadn't expected that though, and the release of resistance sent him stumbling forward. With a growl Garrett smashed his damaged shield into the man's face, shattering it completely as well as the face of the man as he was knocked onto his knees. Brown eyes stared up at Garrett from under rivulets of dark blood...and then widened as his sword entered the man's ribcage...and got stuck there.

Grunting, sudden fear gripping him, Garrett placed a foot against the kneeling corpse and pushed as he pulled at the blade, freeing it in a shower of blood as he stumbled backwards while Varric's warning reached him. "Behind you!"

Turning with the stumble he found the woman he had knocked over on her feet and charging at him. Her greatsword was swinging down at him as he desperately raised his own sword to parry, knowing it would never be strong enough to deflect the blow unless he got his other hand up to grip the blade, which he would never manage.

But then the woman cried out in agony and fell forward, a crossbow bolt sticking out of her back. Garrett got a brief glimpse of Varric grinning at his shot as he reloaded the mechanical weapon...and then the worlds spun as the dead woman's blow connected with Garrett's shoulder. Fortunately it first struck the pauldron, reducing the force of the blow, but then it bounced inwards, striking the merely clothed area between the breastplate and the pauldron.

_Pain_!

Garrett heard someone scream, but wasn't sure if it was him, as he tumbled into the dust. His hand clutched hard at his sword as with blinking eyes he rolled onto one knee and tried to look around himself while asserting the damage. It _burnt_...but he could move the arm. _Shallow_..._Maker, __this armour is good for being quiet, but it's not for a battlefield_!

At the far end of the skirmish, he could spot Aveline fighting, the woman holding two mercenaries off with her swift shield as a third lay in the dust by her feet. Even as he watched, Maric charged forth with a howl, making the two mercenaries flinch in surprise. It was all the opening their opponents needed, Aveline's sword thrust into the neck of one mercenary, Maric's claws raked the others guts open.

Next to Isabela, Carver was leaping forth with a cry, his greatsword coming down on the large axe his chosen foe was wielding...only to split it in two, along with much of the woman's face. Another mercenary cried out in rage at that, two swords raised high as he charged at Garrett's brother...who with a snarl spun his sword high, cleaving the man's arms off at the elbows and then, still swinging, ending the man's cry of agony by sending his head tumbling over the street.

Isabela herself was doing surprisingly well, though Garrett wasn't sure he cared at the moment. Surrounded by Hayder and two other men wielding hatches and swords as she did with her daggers, she was dodging and weaving past their thrusts and slashes, her own daggers over and over parrying blows from the strangest of angles as she almost seemed to dance with her foes, sometimes even atop the two foes she had already felled.

"A little help here!" Looking over at Varric, Garrett felt panic well up within him as he saw the dwarf and Bethany stand together, eyes wide at the sight of the large group of mercenaries rushing at them, clearly not wanting to be hit with another fireball as they surged towards Bethany. Wide-eyed, she didn't call out like Varric, instead her staff shot forth, sending a stream of white into the face of the foremost man, making him clutch at his now frozen throat and tumble into the dust.

Before she could move to cast another spell however, the next two launched themselves at her...only to tumble back as Varric somehow managed to launch two bolts from Bianca in quick succession. Yet another two took their place though, and they were _fast_.

Varric growled a curse as he ducked low and raised his crossbow, the steel bow parrying the downward swing of his foe with a ringing clang. Bethany on the other hand managed to knock the sword thrust at her face aside with her staff and shot her hand forth to cast something into the face of her opponent...only to cry out as his other hand slashed a dagger along her forearm.

_No_!

A roar...and Garrett launched himself forward, dimly aware that Carver had echoed his cry and was doing the same.

Reaching out, Garrett caught hold of the black hair of a woman trying to circle around Varric and his opponent. Pulling hard, he made her tumble back...and straight into his blade, drawing a loud gasp from her even as he wrenched his blade free.

The man fighting Varric turned his head at the sound...and then gasped himself as Varric took the opportunity to slam the knife attached to the bottom of Bianca into his crotch, dropping him onto his knees...at which point the dwarf with an angry grunt pressed Bianca against the man's mouth and pulled the trigger.

Carver was even worse. Roaring, Carver's swing opened the back of the man who by now had knocked Bethany onto her back and was raising his blade for the finish. Crying out, the man fell to his knees...and Carver raised his sword high before screaming as he brought it down upon his foe's shoulder, splitting the man in two all the way down to his hips.

Staring at his sister to ensure she was okay Garrett felt nothing but panic at the blood _covering_ her shocked-looking face...even as his mind told him the blood came from the now exceedingly dead mercenary. He couldn't help himself though, kneeling down by her right side as Carver did the same to her left, both gripping onto her to ensure she was okay with their free hand even as the three siblings raised their weapons as one, ready to fight whatever came next, to protect one another.

Nothing came though.

To his left he could see Aveline grimace as she looked at her left leg, the armour there buckled inwards and blood seeping from a slight crack. Maric was with him, the hound licking a wound across his right front paw with surprising calm.

Next to him, Varric seemed unharmed, though he was glaring at a few drops of blood on his coat, as if it had somehow personally offended him.

Looking over at Isabela, Garret found all but Hayder now on the ground, the street littered with bodies and covered with dark blood. _So much death_..._Maker, we have to get out of here before the guards dare brave the darkness of the docks to investigate_!

Hayder himself was about to join them, the man standing on his toes, eyes wide, staring at nothing as Isabela pressed up close to him, holding him up by the daggers stuck between his ribs, lips against his ear, coyly smirking as she spoke. "Was that a soft enough spot, hmmm?"

Hayder's reply was a weak gasp.

"Didn't think so." Isabela pulled back, the daggers leaving Hayder's slumping body with a crimson flourish. "Idiot."

"_Idiot_!" Garrett echoed, sudden anger making him forget about his throbbing shoulder as he flew to his feet, glaring at Isabela. "_Who's_ the idiot! You went out of your way to get us into this fight! Are you _mad_!"

"Now he's out of the picture." Isabela shrugged, apparently pleased.

Growling, Garrett moved closer. "You planned this all along! You didn't want him to leave you for a time! You wanted him _dead_!"

"Nooo." Isabela sighed. "I wanted him to leave so I could do my work, when he wouldn't do that he had to die." The sigh turned into a glare, her eyes flashing dangerously at him. "And who told _you_ you could negotiate? No one barters away my freedom!"

"_Freedom_! You _hypocrite_! How about _other_ peoples _lives_!" Garrett snarled, the image of Bethany's pained face at the cut along her arm still freshly embedded on his retinas. "You hired bodyguards, you claimed you wanted a _peaceful_ end! Yet you threw us into this, as Hayder said, to solve _your_ problem! You didn't even _try_ to compromise! You wanted all of it _your_ way!" He felt himself fuming. "How could you take such a _stupid_ risk!"

"Risks is what it's all about...makes life exciting, doesn't it?" Isabela replied, grinning at him.

Garrett stiffened, hands closing into fists, ready to pound that grin into a bloody pulp, to have her join the rest of the corpses. Then a low growl escaped him as he forced his head to turn, to look at his injured sister, at his brother struggling to apologise as he helped clean the worst of the gore off...and the white-hot anger struggled with the knowledge of why they had come, what he was trying to _do_ for the two...

Another growl, full of rage, and Garrett turned back to Isabela and pointed an accusing finger at her with his working arm as the other began to throb as the adrenaline left him. "You will show us this Warden, now."

"Well shouldn't we first clean up and-"

"_Now_!"

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for slugging through this one._


	15. Chapter 15

Shock was starting to settle in.

Garrett felt his hands shaking, but clenched them to his sides, glaring at Isabela's back, hoping it would be enough to hide his inner turmoil._ At least my anger is genuine_... He almost laughed at the thought, making him clench his mouth shut, aware that hysteria was not becoming, nor what they needed.

He had killed, not once, but _three_ times! Darkspawn and animals were one thing, but _people_! Had any of those deaths been necessary? Perhaps from Isabela's point of view...but had there been no other way?

_Hypocrite, you've killed before_.

Garrett grimaced. _That was different_.

Yes, he had killed before, but never out of any other need than to survive, to protect the family. Back when they had been travelling across Ferelden he had, aged fourteen at the time, killed a bandit waiting in ambush with a rock, father had reminded him that he had helped protect them all...and he had calmly agreed.

In Lothering he had once ambushed and killed another farmer who had learnt of Bethany and her magic, he'd managed to make it look like an animal attack, tricking the whole village into hunting down at least fifty wolves. None, not even his family, especially not Bethany who would have felt guilt over it, knew of it. At Ostagar, he had killed one of his allies. By stabbing the man in the hip he had effectively killed him, but he had saved himself and, more importantly, Carver, and by extension their entire family.

He didn't feel any shame over it. Nor had he ever been all that nervous or frightened at the prospect of killing another person for the sake of survival or protecting the family, but then again, each one of those had been _planned_, he had known what he had set out to do and done it with a minimal of fuss. He had done it as _planned_.

To his left Bethany walked, as white as a sheet as she no doubt felt just as shocked, if not _more_ so since she'd never killed a person, only Darkspawn, in her life. To his right Carver was walking, looking proud, he had enjoyed the battle far too much, seeing it as something 'glorious', as if there was nothing that could be lost in the deaths of some strangers they had no quarrel with.

Isabela had taken his plan from Garrett, made the full impact of the needless deaths of those people hit him. She had taken Bethany's innocence and muddled it, she had made Carver enjoy needless slaughter and probably made him even _more_ impulsive than he already was.

Garrett glared a bit harder at her back.

_Eugh, this isn't helping, focus on the task at hand, the fact that we're making progress_.

That cheered him up a bit, which was impressive considering that the drab surroundings of Darktown was hardly a sight inviting hope.

The group had managed to clean themselves up a bit since their battle at the docks, but still looked wretched. Aveline had developed a limp, Bethany never stopped gripping her wounded arm and Garrett's shoulder throbbed with his every step, and then there was the remaining blood crusting against their skin, in their clothes and in their _hair_... As such it was no surprise that they barely saw a soul, the average inhabitant of Darktown was considered prey, and they had a sense for dangerous predators that made them scurry away like rats. Which was impressive since some claimed nearly half of Kirkwall's population lived down in Darktown, almost every Ferelden refugee lived there, but was still only a large minority compared to the rest of the poor of Kirkwall.

_I'm just glad no __bigger__ predator has seen us yet_... Garrett glanced left and right; he was well aware they had been lucky at the docks, Bethany's magic hadn't tipped the scales so much as it had surprised the mercenaries enough for the rest to get the jump on them, as such he didn't like the chances of their small group of injured people if _they_ were the ones caught by surprise...

Darktown was an apt name for the underground part of Kirkwall, and actually a nicer name than calling it what it was; a massive crypt, the place where long ago the Tevinter magisters had dumped the leftovers, be they dead or dying, of their blood-magic driven experiments. The only lights that existed there came from dying torches, fluorescent lichen and the odd shaft of light beaming down from holes in the ceiling, a blessing in the shape of poor maintenance. All those lights did a poor job of illuminating the wide halls where the arched ceiling was covered in barely less filth than the floor, and perhaps it was for the best.

"You know, someone really ought to clean this place up." Varric muttered, though his attempt to be funny lacked strength, and even Bethany didn't react to the words that couldn't quite penetrate the filth that seemed to hang within Darktown like a mist.

Tensing, Garrett glared at Isabela, his growl succeeding better than Varric's joke. "How much further?"

"Not far at all..." Isabela chuckled, walked right towards where a the hallway ended in turn to the right...and raised her foot high before kicking at the corner.

It gave way, layers of filth cracking, pieces of it raining down on the floor, then something just above Isabela's head gave way...and the wall, that apparently was nothing but a filthy piece of cloth, fell to the floor.

Light, soft and warm, yet stinging Garrett's eyes now that they were accustomed to the darkness of Darktown, greeted them. As did the nasal voice of a woman exclaiming her annoyance. "Oh for...you open it from the side! Great, now I have to search a refuse pile for a new cloth covered in the right amount of shi..." The woman saw the group entering, her eyes widening. "...shit."

"Don't worry honey, we're good...well good-_ish_, people." Isabela reassured the woman as Garrett studied her. The woman was clearly Ferelden, but probably paler and thinner than she had once been as the life in Darktown took its toll, she didn't look like she had had a decent meal in months. Still, she wasn't as bad looking as most of the prey who lived in Darktown, she wasn't a thin ghost of a human, looking more like a ghoul than a woman. _Then again, Fereldians haven't lived here that long, give it a few more years_... Garrett found the thought depressing, yet was glad knowing it wouldn't to any of his own.

The Fereldian woman had adopted the behaviour of a Darktown prey when cornered though; trembling, she dropped to her knees and crawled into a corner, making herself as small as possible in the hope of none of the threats before her hurting her. "Poor girl..." Bethany muttered, slowing down to offer the trembling mess a sympathetic look.

Garrett grabbed her arm, pulling her along. "We can't help her, get a move on."

Behind him, Bethany muttered something angry, but Garrett ignored it as his now accustomed eyes took in the sight before him.

The room they had entered was surprisingly roomy and practically devoid of furniture, the walls lined with small crates used as benches by what had to be five dozen people, entire families sitting there and waiting. Ahead, crowding around a doorway, there were more people nearly as many as were sitting along the walls in fact. Almost all of them Fereldians, coughing, clutching injuries or rashes, all looking either sick or undernourished, most a little bit of both.

They were all turning their heads, staring at the group, eyes becoming wide in fright, those crowding around the doorway parting, pushing towards the sides of the room to make room for the armed and blood-soaked group coming forth. _They could easily kill us_. Garrett could by a quick headcount figure the group was surrounded by more than a hundred people, they might be undernourished and only carry the odd knife, but in a fight they would swamp the group...but Garrett's time with the Footpads had taught him a valuable lesson, that of intimidation.

Glaring hard at some of the Fereldians that were closer to the doorway with their hands moving into their clothes he lightly touched his blade, immediately they scuttled further away from it, the defiant light in their eyes instantly fading as their instincts took control over their will to protect the Warden they loved.

_Good, we better make sure this Warden recognises us as friendly swiftly though, we can't scare them off forever_. With that in mind, Garrett pushed past Isabela and took the lead, striding right towards the doorway where a flimsy piece of cloth was blocking the view into the next room.

He pushed it aside and stepped inside, eyes instantly fixed upon the sight ahead.

The room was smaller than the one behind him, but still somewhat roomy. In the far right corner a cot stood on rickety legs, the closet of scared wood next to it suggesting that corner was used as a living quarter. The rest of the walls were covered with shelves and chests though, the chests were closed, not revealing their content, but the shelves were displaying hundreds of glass jars holding liquids in all manner of colours, some with more solid matters in them. The floor of the room was of cold stone, here and there blemished by blood that the still wet mop in a corner had apparently missed during a quick cleaning. There were several tables spread across the floor, all covered in thick mats of straw and with a single pillow at one end, improvised beds that all looked recently used.

Only the bed in the centre of the room was being used at the moment though. A scrawny boy lay on his back atop it, though most of him was blocked from sight by the back of a man in a dark robe and hood that stood bent over the boy. A gloved left hand was held over the boy's head, making a soft green glow hovering over his forehead, probably keeping the boy soundly asleep even as the cloaked man put aside a blood.-covered knife before moving his freed hand back towards the boy's torso.

Next to the bed a pale woman stood, eyes wide as she wrung her hands, clearly struggling not to leap forth. As if sensing it, the man spoke up, his voice dry and raspy. "Do not worry, he'll live." There was a flash of white light...and the boy twitched. "There, the kidney is healed, now for the infection..." The man's had darted down to a jar next to the knife, pulling out a fine brown powder before it returned to his work. "...with rest this will be enough, now for the flesh..." Another flash, longer, softer. "...good as new." The man straightened with a weary sigh and turned his hooded face towards the woman even as the light above the boy's head faded away, making him blink as he swiftly began to wake. "Tell him to stay away from the dog-sizedrats, there might be more to eat, but they didn't get that big by eating _scraps_..."

"I will, I will, thank you..." The woman whimpered, unable to contain herself as she stumbled forth and grabbed what had to be her son's arm, hauling him to his feet. "And you're in big trouble, mister! I'm going to..." Her voice, tinged with relief as much as anger, faded out as she caught sight of the group that had barged into the room.

Silence.

Then the cloaked figure spun round, something beneath his dark hood glowing a harsh blue as his gloved right hand shot back, dark red fire suddenly in the palm of his hand as his left shot out palm first, a shimmering blue aura appearing in front of it. Garrett couldn't quite make out the man's features beneath the hood, but the parched lips there spoke with authority and anger. "This is a place of healing, _not_ violence, you are _not_ allowed here. If you think I will be intimidated you will be shown the error of your..." The voice lost some of it's authority as the hooded man cocked his head to the side. "...a mage...?"

Realizing the man was staring at Bethany, Garrett stepped in front of her, glowering at the man and his magic fire as he gripped his sword. "Do we have a problem?" He ignored the woman as she grabbed her son and scurried towards the exit and away from the confrontation.

"Not...as much of one as I thought..." The cloaked man hesitated...then the fire in his hand died out as he straightened, hands dropping down to his sides. "Explain yourselves, what is a _guard_..." He spat the word, making Aveline bristle. "...a _mage_..." Bethany looked away. "...and _dwarf_ doing together? And more specifically, _here_?"

"Heh, there's a joke starting like that..." Varric chuckled.

"Ending with the dwarf the only one left standing in a pile of empty glasses, I know it." The hooded man replied with something approaching a dry chuckle, making Garrett shudder. Something about the man felt..._wrong_. "But that doesn't explain why...ah..._you_." The man turned his head, regarding Isabela that had taken to stand at the far edge of the group. "Knew it was a mistake treating you, this place was to remain a secret, remember?"

Isabela shrugged, smirking at the man. "What can I say? I got a nicer deal than a balm that itched."

"It healed you, didn't it? And taught you a lesson...or so I had _hoped_." The man sighed, a dreary sound, hollow. "And now a guard is here, tell me, are you here to arrest me?" He regarded Aveline, despite his dark hood, Garrett could sense there was an ironic glint in his eyes somewhere within that darkness.

Aveline straightened, her chin raised high. "I don't recall offering free treatment of my _countrymen_ to be an offence. As to a mage being out of the Circle, that's _templar_ business, Chantry law isn't my jurisdiction."

"Good...though I wonder how long that will last...for as long as it's _convenient_, I'm guessing..." There was a hint of irony in the man's voice, _hostile_ irony, but Aveline was wise enough not to react to it. "And you, the leader of this strange group, have yet to explain why you're here, and who this mage is. Another one seeking protection from enslavement by the Chantry?"

Garrett realised the man was speaking to him, apparently recognising him as the one leading the group. "My _sister_ already _has_ protection." He thumped a hand into his armoured chest, Carver only being a second behind him as the brother was too busy glaring at the Warden, apparently – and not surprisingly – not liking what he saw. "And we are here because we have need of your help."

"Someone who knows the value of freedom and the plight of those born with magics...I'm listening." There was a hint of approval in the cloaked man's voice as he visibly relaxed and moved closer. "And you _do_ need my help, I don't usually help those that look as well off as you, but that looks like a nasty cut..."

"I won't turn away help." Garrett replied, a quick glance backwards stopping his siblings from moving forth to protect him as the figure in dark robes moved forth, black gloves reaching up to the cut over his shoulder, making him hiss at the slight touch. "But that was not the help I was referring to..." He lost his train of thoughts as he felt the magic envelope him, his gaze fixed on the face of the Warden.

The hood cast much of the face in darkness, but that close Garrett could see that the man's eyes were exceedingly blue, his chin covered in stubble and a few rogue strands of blond hair hung in front of his face. What made Garrett stare though, were the scars, deep, wide and criss-crossing the man's face, the Warden's face looking as if someone had torn it off, cut it into pieces and then glued them together as close to what it should be as they could...except the skin had dried out and become smaller, making large gaps appear between the pieces.

_Dear Maker, what happened to you_!

If it hurt, it didn't show, the Warden's eyes were narrowed in concentration as his dry lips spoke. "Hold still." His breath was...lifeless, brittle and without moisture. Yet his _magic_ was more than vivid and alive, when Bethany healed Garrett's scrapes and cuts it was a tickling sensation, but the Warden's healing was like a balm, the cut far too large for Bethany's limited abilities warming up, as if a warmed iron was being pressed against it.

It was..._soothing_.

And done in moments.

Stepping back, the Warden's face once more became lost in the shadows of his hood, something Garrett shamefully felt thankful of. "I am Anders, though I'm sure Isabela has already told you that." Garrett shot the woman a glare, she had _not_. In reply she simply shrugged, not about to apologise. "Now, what is this help you speak of...?" Now the man was wary once more. "And more importantly, who are _you_?"

"Garrett Hawke." The reply made the Warden cock his head slightly to the side, apparently he had heard of Garrett. _Not sure if that's good or bad, we'll see_. "And I understand that you are a Warden-"

"_Was_." Anders interrupted with surprising heat, something within his robed body tensing.

"_Was_ a Warden..." Garrett smoothly continued, not about to let himself get sidetracked or anger the mage. "...and as such know of the Deep Roads." To his surprise, the mage shuddered, turning his face away, apparently he had no good memories of that place...which wasn't so surprising, when Garrett thought about it. "We happen to be equipping an expedition into it, yet need a map and a way to enter it, I hoped to barter it from you."

Anders looked back at him, stepping closer. "That is...an interesting proposition, I would argue the dangers of going there, but I sense you've already considered the risks." Garrett shrugged. "In that case...yes...yes you can." Stepping back, Anders gestured at the walls surrounding them. "As you can see I have all I require, food, drink and medicines, I get by. What I require isn't monetary, but something else."

"And that would be?" Garrett asked, he had expected something like that, Warden's weren't exactly known to be in need of help with the basics of life. Behind him he felt Carver tense though, his brother clearly not looking forward to helping the strange man.

"I am forming...I suppose you could call it a resistance." The Warden leant back, placing his hands on the table upon which he so recently had treated the boy on. "Knight-Commander Meredith is a cruel woman, and there's many mages wishing to be free of _her_ leash, as much as that of the Chantry in general. I guess you can sympathise?"

Bethany eagerly nodded, and Garrett mimicked it somewhat more calmly, he felt bad for those trapped within the circle, how could he not when his father had been among them once, but as long as it wasn't Bethany he could keep an emotional distance to it. "Go on."

"Well I've been smuggling mages out of the Circle for some time; only a handful since the Templars are strict and skilled in keeping the tower locked down, but I've managed a few times." A weary sigh escaped Anders, as if he wasn't pleased with his work. "I had an informer there, setting up meetings and such...but for a long time he was quiet...until now, apparently there's a great danger and he dares not inform me via letter of it, but wishes to meet me."

Garrett tensed. "That sounds...dangerous." Behind him, Bethany was getting paler. "As I said before, I _protect_ my sister, I will _not_ bring down the wrath of the Templars on our heads."

"I understand, but this is bigger than one mage, this is about every mage in _Thedas_." There was more heat, even _warmth_, in Ander's voice now, it was clearly a topic he had embraced. "For that risking one mage's freedom is a pittance, but-" He raised his hand before Garrett could protest. "...there is not much danger for her, I do not risk my fellow mages more than I have to, she can even stay behind if you so desire."

"Ah, but you're fine with risking _us_ for the sake of mages we've never met, how _nice_..." Carver suddenly spoke up, tone sour. Garrett shot him a glare, he was well aware that Carver disliked magic in general, in particular since Bethany's gift had made life for them so...difficult...but now was not the time to voice it.

"As I _said_...there's not much danger." Anders replied with a glance at Carver before he looked back at Garrett. "In fact, I mostly need you as a guide, my contact is a mage by the name of Karl, he wishes to meet me in the Chantry in five days time."

_Sounds doable_. Garrett kept a neutral face though as he spoke. "The Chantry? Isn't that a bit of an odd place to have a meeting?"

"Mages are allowed there so they can pray to the Maker for forgiveness for being born the way they are..." Again, there was heat in Anders' voice, this time of _anger_. "It will not be odd for him to go there, and I know of sympathisers that can distract his guards so he can evade them for a time, he will be punished, but it's no more than what he's used to." Garrett shuddered, he had had nightmares of what Bethany would endure in the Circle, the idea of someone willingly going through more of it to simply have a meeting...it meant it was something important. "The problem is to get _me_ there. The Templars are constantly searching for me, and a man in my..._position_ is easily discovered by them." Anders paused, regarding Garrett. "But you are _Hawke_, of the Footpads...I hear you know of secret ways into _any_ place..."

"Almost." Garrett admitted, it was not good to boast about what he knew of when it wasn't necessary, but it was not a well-kept secret that he had gathered knowledge on how to get into most areas of Kirkwall in less traditional ways. "And yes, I can get you into the Chantry to speak with this Karl."_ Bethany will not come with us though, just in case_. "Will that suffice? An entry for a map?"

"Yes." The hooded man bowed his head.

Behind Garrett, Carver sighed.

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for her speedy work._


	16. Chapter 16

"Why is it taking so long?"

Garrett didn't take his eyes off his work. The Footpads had paid a decent sum of money to find a secret entrance to the Chantry, and when they had the location Athenril had made sure none but they could use it by covering the space just before the door itself with a complex system of ropes and strings. And if your tripped one, or loosened them in the wrong order, the result would be that the hidden caches of firebombs above them would fall down and burn all below to cinders.

As such he was less than concerned about Anders growing impatience as he worked the last knot open with care. "We are on schedule, calm yourself. I'm just glad Athenril has yet to remember to change the traps..."

"And _that's_ your happy face?" Isabela queried with a chuckle, making Garrett stiffen in irritation as he felt her hovering above his shoulder, no doubt trying to memorize what he was doing in case she wanted to break into the Chantry herself later on. She had, to Garrett's surprise, volunteered to go with them, rambling about loving the idea of breaking into the Chantry and adventure...

Though he was already beginning to regret his decision, Garrett had agreed to have her tag along, for as annoying as she might be, he knew that if they walked into any Templar-shaped trouble, she could be useful, if nothing else but as a distraction.

"My brother doesn't _have_ a happy face." Carver chimed in with an annoyingly cheerful tone. The days before they had left the man had been swinging between being grumpy and excited at the idea of helping Anders, and in the end the excitement of adventure had won out...Garrett wasn't happy about that either.

_Good that Bethany isn't along though_. She had wanted to help, wanted to protect them as they did her, but in the end Garrett had played upon her fear of the Templars and made her reluctantly agree to stay at home. If it had been any other possible opposition, then he could have brought her, but he would _not_ have her risk facing people _trained_ to fight her kind._ Though at least this one is less likely to turn dangerous, Anders isn't, thank the Maker, Isabela_.

Behind him, Varric was chuckling lowly, amused but at least having the courtesy not to disturb him. "Clearly you haven't tried hard enough to make it appear."

"Ohhh...I _like_ that idea." Isabela purred, making Garrett grimace, his fingers almost stumbling on the knot.

He found himself missing Aveline, the woman had of course not been about to help them. Ignoring a free apostate was as far as she could go, but breaking into the chantry? It was too much to ask, Garrett could respect that._ So now I'm left with this 'company'_... Grumbling, he struggled on with the knot as he tersely hissed. "If you wish to become burnt alive here I suggest you continue this discussion, otherwise, _please_ let me concentrate."

Silence.

Then Carver chuckled. "Right, like you'd let _that_ happen."

"Don't tempt me." Garrett opened up the knot and pushed the line aside before rising and turning to the rest of the group, ignoring the face Carver was making as he spoke. "Now, if Anders' helpers have done their job the Chantry should be empty, none the less I want us to move quietly and swiftly; we do this quickly and get _out_ quickly, understood?" The others nodded, even Maric, the only one in the group with the sense to keep silent, offered a nod. "Good."

Turning, he walked forth and pushed the door open, or rather, slid the bookshelf that _was_ the door aside, and stepped into the Chantry.

They were in the main chamber. To the right, the hall leading to the great oak doors lay, candles littering the sides filling the path with a warm glow. The chamber itself was a magnificent sight built in several tiers. On the ground floor they stood on the white paving was polished to a shine, causing the many candles hanging from chandeliers above reflect against it and making the room seemingly glow. To the left the second floor was little more than a large balcony, the wooden lectern at the front showing where the mother usually stood to hold her sermon to a standing crowd. Little in the way of standing was allowed in Kirkwall's Chantry, it seemed. _Then again, we're closer to the head of the Chantry, I suppose we are more relaxed about procedure in Ferelden_...

At least those standing to look up at the chanting mother would get a spectacular view of the statue of Andraste that stood just behind the balcony and nearly against the railing of the final floor. Garrett had, when the Footpads had broken into the Chantry once, had one of them tell him of it. Of pure marble, the statue had been made in Val Royeaux and was a gift from the Divine herself. Apparently it had taken them an entire week to transport the massive statue through Kirkwall and into the Chantry itself, replacing the old bronze statue with this marvel, the final piece made by a now dead artist.

She looked beautiful, her hair hidden by a cloak that fell down along her body, hiding all but her hands, closed before her in prayer as almost living eyes looked up at the sky for the Maker's love. Every fold of the cloak looked natural, as if she was really there, ready to step forth and bless them all at any moment. The soft oval shape of Andraste's face spoke of strength as well as an otherworldly connection that could make even the staunchest heretic reconsider his position...which of course was the whole idea.

The third level of the chamber was the one of most interest though, a railing running over three sides of the room marking it out. Close to Garrett's left there was a stair leading up to a few offices and stairs leading to the rest of the massive building's many living quarters, treasuries, libraries and the like. A narrow path ran between that area an the back of the statue of Andraste and over the other end of the room, a place designed for private discussions for priests and the admission of sins.

Which was their target.

Staying still for a moment, Garrett made sure they were alone, then waved the others to follow as they softly padded up the nearest stair and stopped in the shadows at the top to once more make sure there was nothing foul at work.

Carver was grinning, as was Isabela. Anders on the other hand looked impatient, but held his tongue, while Maric sniffed at the air, somewhat worried, but not giving any real warning. Garrett on the other hand checked left and right, but saw nothing moving in the shadows within the chamber, instead he could spot a man in mage's robes over by a confession booth, having his back to them as he worked on what seemed to be a pile of papers.

"Let's go." Garrett rose, walking down the path behind Andraste's head, oddly enough feeling somewhat rude for doing so.

Now walking in plain sight, hurrying forward as Anders forced the pace, the group, particularly Garrett and Carver with their heavier equipment, made quite a sound in the otherwise silent chamber.

Despite that, the man didn't turn.

Garrett and Maric exchanged a worried look.

"Karl." Anders spoke, the dry voice tinged with affection at the sight of the grey haired man as he stepped closer. "It's a relief seeing you, I hadn't heard from you for ages and feared the worst."

"You were wise to do so." Came the response as the mage looked up from his papers, yet still not turning, his voice oddly...monotone..._empty_. "The fact that you came here though...that was less wise."

"What? Why are you talking like that?" Anders asked, his voice rising as he stepped forward and grasped Karl's shoulder. "Look at me and tell me..._no_!"

The grey eyes looking back were as dull as the mage's voice, his forehead branded with the mark of the Chantry, his posture slack, an aura of unreal calm about him. "We were never going to win, I understand that now, the Templars are simply too powerful, but I am content with that." Only now did Garrett notice a thin wooden stick in the man's hand, a stick covered in blue runes. "As you may be, if they judge you should be made tranquil." He snapped the stick in two.

An instant later there was a crash as the gates down below were flung open, then closed with the force of a group that knew only how to do things violently.

_Shit_! Garrett spun round, his sword suddenly in his hand, his other dearly missing his shield even as panic welled up within him. _Okay, you planned for this, Templars being on to us_..._though I didn't expect an ambush like this, damn magic_..._they're between us and our exit, can we flee upwards? Yes, and then hide and sneak by_...

Next to him, Anders was bristling, no, _glowing_...

Stumbling away from the man, Garrett's eyes widened in horror as he saw blue lights criss-crossing across Anders' face, his eyes two orbs of pure blue as his scars began to pulsate with purer and purer lights. "Holy..." Varric jumped away as he too noticed it, staring at the sight of the light actually penetrating the folds of Ander's robe, revealing a myriad of scars across his body that now glowed enough to make him outshine the nearby candles.

He was baring his teeth, a low, unearthly, growl escaping him.

Karl raised his voice. "Templars! Over-"

Garrett moved to punch him...only for the man to fly backwards, hurtling into the wall with a sickening crack before crumpling to the floor. Turning to stare at Anders, he found the man's hand outstretched, glowing scars shining through his black glove as a grimace of disgust crossed his face, then turned to one of fury, a low hiss escaping him, the voice rumbling, far away from Anders' usual voice. "They did this to him...forced me to put him down like an injured dog...they must know _justice_..."

"Errr..." Garrett had no idea what was going on, and was unsure whether to run for it or not, whether Anders was now an ally or not...and _highly_ doubted the Templars wouldn't notice the man's pulsating glow.

He was right. "Ser! Over there!" The voice echoed, spoken from a man in a Templar's helmet. _So much for hiding_...

The next man speaking did not wear a helmet by the sound of it, but was one of authority. "Anders, we know you are here, your dissident behaviour is at an end! Come peacefully and it will be considered upon your trial!"

"They think they have the right to punish, to cast _judgement_..." Anders growl rose, his glowing eyes narrowing as they stared at the dead Karl. "They know _nothing_ of justice, _nothing_ of what's right!" His voice now rose, a bass tone no human was capable of, angry, _powerful_...he whirled about. "All Templars must _die_!"

"Wait-" Garrett couldn't stop it, he could only watch as Anders surged forward, leaping atop the railing and dropping into a crouch, like a panther ready to pounce, his dark shape glowing with power.

"There! Stop hi-!" The call was too late, for a moment later a fireball hurtled from Anders hands, followed by another as he straightened, hands raised high as spheres of fire began to reform in the palms of his hands.

Below, there were explosions and cursing, but surprisingly no cries of pain. Instead Garrett felt a chill run down his spine...and saw Anders stagger as the space around him seemingly shifted. The mage staggered, but then stood up, growling as another two fireballs were hurled down. "You will never hurt another mage again!"

Garrett's hand flicked out, catching Isabela's hand in a vice before she could leap down and fight. He ignored her angry exclamation though, instead he took a deep breath. _Okay, we've known we could face Templars before, at least I and Carver know what to do, hell, with Bethany not here we have more freedom to act. The Templars are highly trained and heavily armoured, we are two farmers with weapons and some extra skill, tactics are required_. "Carver, Maric, Isabela, guard the top of the stair nearest us, but do not let them see you, charge down when I give the word."

_Just not sure how tactics will help enough_... Garrett frowned, ignoring Carver's quick nod as he dragged Isabela and the Maric with him. Eyeing their surroundings until his eyes came to rest upon the statue of Andraste. "Varric, take up position behind her, but don't open up just yet, but make sure none of them leaves, that's your top priority." The dwarf nodded and started to jog towards the assigned position, only to glance back in surprise as Garrett jogged after him.

_It's a work of art, holy, beautiful, far too delicate to damage, even at the foot_... Garrett hoped he remembered the Footpad's story correctly, otherwise his idea would be a horrible failure._ Ignore it_. Following his own advice, he instead looked over the railing as he moved, trying to get an estimate of the situation.

It wasn't good.

The Templars numbered eleven, and none of them had even been _scratched_ by Anders' bombardment. They were moving as one, eight of them overlapping their distinctive shields to deflect the blasts of the mage, fireballs that seemed to actually _shrink_ as they approached the Templars. Two others were holding bows, taking pot-shots at Anders, though the demented mage ignored the buzzing shafts whizzing past his head as he again and again tried to destroy the Templars slowly moving towards the stairs.

In the middle of the formation, a tall Templar with a dark beard and a balding head was gesturing at Anders with his greatsword, looking irritated rather than angry. "Falter, damn you!" Again, the air around Anders seemed to shift, making the mage stumble and shake his head...only to once more growl and hurl down a fireball at the shields below in response.

_Better take the chance now, while they're focused elsewhere and tightly packed_. Ignoring Varric's puzzled look, Garrett climbed over the railing, kicked out and found his feet reaching the back of the statue of Andraste. _Okay_..._here_ _goes_ _nothing_. Grunting, Garrett inched downwards, his hands against the wall, his feet against Andraste...and _pushed_.

The statue shifted.

His legs were moved upwards as he felt the statue rock back towards him...and then he pushed again, making it pick up momentum.

"Are you going to...that's crazy!" Varric hissed, crossbow resting against the railing as he kept one eye on the Templars, another on Garrett. A Garrett not quite sure if the dwarf was amused or simply shocked.

Andraste was moving towards him...and then forward again as with clenched teeth he kicked out._ A masterpiece, so beautiful and real, one can't simply fasten such a thing of beauty with crude bolts, one cannot diminish such a beauty with anything else_. The Footpad had spoken of it with reverence, but also greed, joking about the idea of carting the thing out to sell since it wasn't bolted down...

Grunting, Garrett pushed...and found himself falling down.

Catching himself by grabbing onto a banner with the Chantry symbol stitched over it, he ungainly slid down to the floor even as he stared at the sight ahead with wide eyes.

The beautiful statue was tipping, no, _falling_, forward...and as gravity did its work, the Templars finally noticed it. The first was one of the archers, her eyes no doubt wide underneath her helmet as she stared up at the marble coming down at them. "Andraste!" Garrett wasn't sure if it was an exclamation of horror or wonder at the sight of her prophet.

It made the leader look up though, eyes wide with horror. He pushed another man aside. "Scatter!"

It was his last word.

With a crunch, the soft face of Andraste shattered into unrecognisable pieces...but not before having crushed the commander of the Templars into pieces of shorn steel and gore. Most of her body missed the group, but her shoulders crushed two more, and her hands broke off at the impact and were sent hurtling into another one, slamming her against the wall and no doubt breaking every bone in her body.

The rest disappeared in a cloud of dust and as pieces of the statue slid over the floor, Garrett could see many of them as shadowy shapes tripping and falling over one another.

"_Now_!"

The others needn't be told twice, and were already hurtling down the stairs.

The Templar that the commander had pushed had stumbled up the steps...and now raised his head just in time to catch a sight of a swinging Carver before his head, still in its helmet, was sent bouncing down the stairs. Another growled and slammed his shield into the still charging Carver before bodily throwing him over the railing of the stairs...only for himself to go the same way as Maric launched himself into him.

Carver landed with a crunch and a curse, the Templar with a scream as Maric tore his helmet off with his jaws before biting into his face.

Roaring, a Templar that had gotten to his feet swifter than the rest, launched himself at Maric...only to stumble and fall forward as a bolt of whiteness struck his leg and froze his foot to the floor, Anders second blast striking his hand, freezing his blade to the floor. A moment later Carver had rolled atop the Templar and, grunting with lingering pain from his fall, began to bash the pommel of his sword into the mailed neck of the Templar, slowly ending his struggling.

Ahead, Garrett saw Isabela hurl herself at a Templar struggling to rise, his sword raised to impale her. A blur of movement and he flinched as one of her daggers struck his shoulder..and then doubled over with a shriek as Isabela slid across the floor the last few feet, cutting apart his dress, as well as a few other parts, while she slipped between his legs.

Garrett himself found himself running straight at the Templar archers, one of them with an arrow already notched...making him wince as his left hand flexed uselessly where his shield was supposed to be.

Then a crossbow-bolt struck the bowman in the shoulder, making his shot go wide. Garrett launched himself at him before he could change weapon...only to be forced back by his friend as she swung a gilded mace at him. Garrett thrust out at her, but the only response was a chuckle as the woman let the blade bounce off her breastplate and stepped into his guard with her mace swinging.

Garrett caught her hand by the wrist, stopping the swing with a grunt as he lifted his left leg and stomped down at the inside of her left leg. She cried out in pain and surprise as the knee buckled, dropping her down on it while Garrett's grip on her wrist remained. The other Templar, sword drawn, came to her rescue...only to be tripped over by a charging Maric, the hound swiftly turning around and biting into the man's mailed leg as he struggled to rise while at the same time parry the strikes of a panting Carver.

Growling, feeling years of fear turn into anger, Garrett slammed the pommel of his sword into the side of the woman's helmet, making it turn down...right on time to face his steel boot as he kicked upwards.

A bang...and she was on her back, the mace rolling away as the blow knocked her cold. _No one leaves the Chantry, not when they can identify us_. Ignoring the scream of the Templar Carver finally got the better of, Garrett stepped forth, gripped his blade with both hands and brought it down on the still figure before him.

Another Templar head went rolling across the floor.

Then a curse in a strange tongue made him turn his head.

There, Isabela had climbed atop the raised shield of the last Templar...only for her remaining dagger to bounce off his helmet before he threw her off and into a wall.

For a moment it looked as if he was about to push his advantage at the woman already rolling to her feet, but then he cast a glance at the rest of the group...and turned tail and ran.

A moment later a bolt buried itself in his back, though the armour held, making him stumble forward. Then a fireball slammed into him, the inferno making him cry out as he, without having focused his Templar defences or even having a shield ready, took the full brunt of the attack. He stumbled yet more, black smoke rising from his armour, body swaying.

Then a second bolt shot forth, striking the gap between his armour and his helmet with a sickening crunch. He fell forward, body slamming into the door...and then sliding to the floor.

Silence.

Turning, Garrett looked up at Anders, finding the mage swaying back and forth as the glow began to dissipate, his blue eyes blinking in confusion. "_You_." Garrett pointed at him. "We had a deal, you will honour it, and then we need to _talk_." The mage, silent, nodded, looking hesitant. Garrett ignored him for the moment though, focused on the now. "Everyone into the secret entrance, someone must have heard all that; _move_!"

Cursing, Carver began to hobble towards the secret door, clutching his back as the others followed, Anders last of all, stopping next to Garrett and looking at the steady glare. "I-"

"I want an explanation." Garrett interrupted, narrowing his eyes. "But _not_ now, now _move_."

Anders cocked his head to the side even as the last of the glow disappeared. "Fair enough..." Walking on, his mutter barely reached Garrett's ears. "...now isn't _this_ familiar, would make Lynn proud..."

Looking back at the devastation, Garrett grimaced. He had never actually hated Templars, he feared them, yes, for the sake of his family, but hate was something difficult for him to muster. As such, he had killed them with no real emotional or moral reason, out of no more reason but _greed_...

His eyes drifted back to where the statue of Andraste had once stood.

Shame filled him.

_You did this for the family, remember that, it'll be worth it_.

Shaking his head, he walked away.

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for all her help._


	17. Chapter 17

They were alone.

After having Anders treat Carver's injury, which had surprisingly turned out to be a small dislocation in his back, Garrett had sent the others off so he and Anders could speak in private in the mage's private room. It was partly out of respect for Anders' privacy, the man _did_ seem edgy at the prospect at their talk...but mostly it was to get Carver out of harm's way if things turned ugly, Garrett was, after all, not sure what to make of the man before him.

Folding his arms over his chest and leaning his back against an old wooden pillar, Garrett watched Anders as the mage worked on the map over the Deep Roads. The mage was frowning, bent over one of the tables usually used for treating the sick and injured coming to his sanctuary, his hands busy holding down a big piece of parchment and sketching out the entrances and tunnels of the Deep Roads, and showing a surprisingly artistic skill at it too.

"There." Straightening, Anders rolled up the map and placed it on Garrett's side of the table. "One map of the Deep Roads...or at least the parts I know of, enough for your Bartrand fellow, I wager." He met Garrett's gaze, though with his hood up his now normal eyes were almost lost in the shadows. He sighed. "Which means...I suppose...that you want an explanation."

"Yes." Garrett responded, not moving from where he stood, ignoring the map for the moment. "I would expect charging out like that from Isabela, and I _distinctly_ remember us agreeing to _avoid_ any confrontations...yet I'm certain you had little choice or control over what you did, that you didn't actually _look_ for a fight, which puts you a step above Isabela." He paused, narrowing his eyes. "But only slightly."

"I understand." Anders replied, his voice calm, _weary_. "As to my explanation...I suppose the whole thing started when I fled the Circle for...what was it...the twenty-first time?" Something akin to a chuckle escaped his mouth, but it swiftly died. "Found myself caught, as I usually am, in Amaranthine, by this cute little raven-haired beauty...then these Darkspawn fellows decided to sack the castle...and in a curious chain of events...I find myself recruited into the Wardens by their Ferelden commander, funny how life goes, eh?"

"You mean Lynn Tabris?" Garrett blinked, though he wasn't as excited about the whole hero thing as Carver or Aveline, even _he_ was impressed by the tales of the elf. "_The_ Lynn Tabris?"

"That's the one." A grimace of pain, or was it anger, appeared on the mage's thin lips. "Harsh woman...could scare the skin off a Hurlock just by glaring at it, practical, no sense of _justice_, only power." _What's with him and justice_...? Garrett frowned, he had little in the way of love for Ferelden, but badmouthing her hero was a bit much even to him. "Anyway, we fought a campaign in Amaranthine, trying to rid it of a surprisingly subtle campaign by the Darkspawn...and there, in the Deep Roads...I died."

Garret blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Just...listen." Anders held up a hand to ask for silence. "I died, frozen solid by a spell too great for me, then shattered into tiny pieces...dead as dead can be." The mage shuddered. "My spirit wandered the fade...going..._somewhere_, I no longer know." Another pause, this time accompanied with a frown aimed at the table as Anders considered how to best explain it. "But the campaign was still going on...and Lynn had recruited...and then in anger slain...a spirit of the fade that had been bound to a dead Warden...a spirit of..._Justice_." The mage looked up with a smirk. "Crazy, huh?"

Garrett straightened, a shiver running down his spine as trepidation took hold, he was no mage, but he remembered his father's lessons of the fade. "Go on..."

"Justice had been dragged out of the Fade by a demon of pride, and now he had no body, no way to do what he was _meant_ to do..." Anders looked away, fingers drumming on the table. "But he had, in a way, been a Warden, as had I...perhaps it was the taint that drew him, perhaps it was my hidden feelings of how unjust the world had been to me...but Justice found himself drawn to me." A little chuckle escaped him. "What a _curious_ conversation that was, a mortal stuck in the Fade, speaking to a spirit stuck in the mortal realm..."

"I..." Garrett inched away, swallowing as he placed a hand on the pommel of his sword, unsure if he was hearing correctly, or if the mage was playing some sort of prank on him. _If so, it's in bad taste_...

"He offered a deal...he needed to do justice, to perform his purpose, and a body to do it with, _I_ needed a body as well, to return to the mortal realm instead of aimlessly drifting among the currents of the Fade, to...put right what I felt had been wronged to me." Anders looked back up at Garrett, a smirk on his lips as he ignored the tense stance of the man he was speaking to. "We felt like...kindred spirits, if you'll excuse the pun."

Garrett only stared at him, old lessons of his father sifting through his mind, warnings meant for Bethany about the dangers of demons and the Fade...

"I allowed him to reforge my body, piece after piece, he put me together, drawing me back to the mortal realm..." Anders shrugged. "It...hurt...but when it was done, I was alive again, and within me I had found a friend."

"You're...an abomination." Garrett drew his sword.

"Don't call me that!" Anders snapped, apparently more concerned about the name than the blade pointed at him. "An abomination is a demon, a creature of evil that has possessed an unwilling or foolish pawn! Justice is _not_ a demon, but a _spirit_, one of the first children of the Maker himself, and I am no unwilling pawn but a friend of him! _I_ am the one in control!"

Garrett lowered his sword, but only an inch as his eyes narrowed. "Didn't look like that before."

The angry air around Anders died in an instant, the man looking away with a sigh. "Yes...sometimes...when I get angry...Justice has no ability to control himself, or understand patience, he's justice, and he _must_ act...so when I lose control he appears...but _neither_ of us is really in control."

"Sounds like a rage demon." Garrett snapped, despite feeling a bit calmer, he knew his father's lessons well; he knew the difference between a spirit and a demon...Anders had been, in comparison to what _could_ have happened...lucky.

"A rage demon is a creature of mindless violence, Justice acts with _purpose_!" Anders snapped back, apparently ready to defend his 'friend'.

_Single-mindedness is still dangerous_... Garrett didn't say it, instead he chose to change the topic to something less volatile. "Before, you spoke of putting right what had been wronged you, and Justice to need a purpose...am I right in assuming this has something to do with mages and you smuggling them out of the Circle?"

Anders relaxed a bit as he nodded. "Perceptive...and yes, it is. You have never been in the Circle, you have not seen how it is, but as I understand it from your brother you should have been told by your father what kind of power the Chantry has over the mages...it's nothing short of slavery, of oppression. This needs to change; to be born with magic is not a sin. You cannot punish someone and lord over them simply because they are different...surely you agree?"

"I do." Garrett nodded, lowering and then sheathed his sword. "I have lived with Bethany long enough to know she's neither evil nor out of control, despite not being in the Circle."

"_Exactly_!" Anders raised his voice, excitement in it as he thumped a fist into the table. "This oppression has no place in the world where they claim slavery to be at an end! Andraste herself fought for the freedom of _all_! Mages are not to be made Tranquil, no matter the reason! They are not to be caged and taught how to use their magic just so they can be used as weapons against the Qunari and other nations! They are not to create runes and magical items so the Chantry can fill its fat coffers even more!" He shook his head angrily, a flash of blue in his eyes fading the moment it appeared as he lowered his voice. "A mage is a man or a woman, a human or an elf...what right do people have to single them out as monsters and then use them for their own benefit? _Who_ is the monster in such a scenario...?"

"I see where you're getting at...and I agree, things need to change." Garrett watched Anders smile at that, as if he'd never heard anyone agree with him ever before. "However, Karl did have a point, the Chantry is immensely powerful, and I doubt it will be open to such changes, how do you intend to change things?"

"I'm already doing it." Anders replied, a grin in his voice as he leant closer, eyes flashing with enjoyment. "With every mage I smuggle out of the Circle, the Chantry's claim of them being dangerous and in need of being caged rings a little more hollow. With every family reunited with their lost son or daughter, the Chantry's claim of protecting them from their own blood is shown to be false. With every freed mage's story of what he'd endured, the Chantry's façade of caring for those they have kidnapped is cracked, revealing the filth beneath..." His voice had lowered to a hiss. "And then..."

"Then...?" Garrett prodded, finding himself leaning forward as well.

"Revolution." Anders growled, clearly enjoying the idea. "Mages joining with the people, telling the Chantry that enough is enough, that this slavery will no longer be tolerated, that no longer will a Templar decide if a mage should eat or starve, pray or be thrown into a cell, live or die...that they are free men and women, _equals_! And then, as the Chantry crumbles due to its own corruption...a juster society can step forth. One where you're not judged by the magic you control, but by the person you are, where magic and those born with it are not shunned, but embraced as the sons and daughters they are, a world where no man or woman will find themselves in bonds because of what they were born like..."

Garrett hesitated. There was a frightening gleam in Anders' eyes, a gleam of utter and complete conviction of his cause...and that coupled with the spirit inside him made him more than dangerous. "That is...quite a plan." Garrett tried. "Sounds like it'll be a bloody affair though. Don't get me wrong, I'd kill to free Bethany from the Circle, but to have a great civil war seems...counter-productive, a dead mage is no freer than one in the Circle. Would it not be better to use all you reveal to make public opinion push the Chantry into concessions...?"

"_If_ they'd listen, sure." Anders replied, the gleam in his eyes fading and his tone carefully diplomatic. "I doubt it though."

"I wish you the best of luck then." Garrett replied diplomatically, torn whether he was supporting such a radical notion or not. _Doesn't matter, I'm not here to discuss mages and their rights_. "I'll just take this then." He stepped forth and picked up the map before tucking it into his belt, well aware that Varric was waiting for him just outside the door; the dwarf might be friendly and a little on the trusting side, but he was no fool. "Erm...do not take this the wrong way..." Garrett made an apologetic face. "...but I'd be lying if I said I'd feel _comfortable_ with you around my family. Justice might be a spirit and not a demon, but still..." He held back a grimace, Bethany had already expressed an interest in seeing Anders again, no doubt craving to speak to someone in her own position, but Garrett had decided not to allow it, and _no_ amount of her pouting would make him budge on that...

To his relief, Anders offered a weak smile, sad, but kind. "I understand perfectly well, but if any one of you require healing, I'll be here, it's the least I can do after your help." He offered his hand.

Garrett hesitated, but then took it, forcing his fear aside in exchange for practicality, one never knew when a capable healer could come in handy... "Be well, Anders." He offered a nod as he held Anders gaze.

The mage smiled. "I wish you the same."

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"Wonder if it'll turn into a battle."

Carver felt some eagerness at the idea. Someone who stood out in the defence of Kirkwall might not only be rewarded with the promised sovereign for being on the walls, but also draw the attention of a noble or perhaps even the Viscount himself, a way to glory and wealth not relying on his brother's help...

A brother instantly ruining the burgeoning dream with a calm. "I doubt it."

Looking away with an irritated grimace, Carver let his gaze sweep over the walls of Kirkwall...it was an impressive sight.

Kirkwall's walls were high and thick, not to mention that they sported massive towers that were small strongholds in their own right, and since it was a trade-city, had several gates with majestic gatehouses. The defenders were a rich mix of people, and their position largely mirrored their position in Kirkwall's society.

The nobles of Kirkwall had, as their kind usually did, proudly taken up positions of honour in guarding the gatehouses. Most of them looked a bit comical in their expensive armour that they moved so awkwardly in, not surprising since they weren't warriors like the Ferelden nobility but merchants. Their bodyguards more than made up for it though, consisting of knights and men at arms that mostly hailed from Orlais, but who were all grizzled veterans by the looks of it, a small warrior elite in Kirkwall's population.

The Templars were far more numerous...and all having occupied the _real_ positions of power on the wall, the towers, meaning that even if the walls fell and those defending those died, the Templars could fight on. The many heavily armoured and exceedingly profession warriors were not only an intimidating sight in their own right, Carver was not so foolish to not realise that they had beaten the Templars in the Chantry by Garrett's quick thinking putting them on the back foot, but were also accompanied by quite a few mages. Though the smaller frames of the robe-clad men and women looked insignificant and even frightened under the glares of their many 'guards', they would no doubt wreak havoc on anyone trying to enter with their magics.

The walls themselves were manned by the Kirkwall guard and, since they were clearly undermanned, by anyone showing aptitude with a weapon in exchange for a sovereign paid by the Viscount. Carver felt some sympathy for the guardsmen manning the walls, many of them looked very awkward standing next to brutish-looking people they were very right in suspecting to be criminals they any other day would be hunting... There was little they could do though, and the criminals were more than happy to stand next to them in silence, knowing the guards could do nothing and that they themselves would even be _paid_ for their trouble...

As such Garrett and Carver had eagerly signed on, though Bethany once again had to stay behind due to the many Templars nearby, much to her chagrin...still, two sovereigns wasn't bad for simply standing there with your weapon. Currently they were standing with Varric and Isabela, though neither seemed particularly interested in the money as much as to see what was going on...Carver could even wager that the former was already thinking up another of his stupid stories...

Aveline cut into the brother's non-conversation, the woman standing next to them with a contingent of somewhat surly-looking guardsmen as she shot them a look. "Agreed, I doubt, what, five-hundred Qunari, could even hope to get into Kirkwall by force. For one they have no siege engines."

"No armour, probably due to that shipwreck rumour being correct." Garrett muttered. _Did_..._Isabela_ _flinch_ _at_ _that_? Carver shot her a confused look, but she just smirked at him, making him look away with a grumble and a blush. He didn't really like her, but she was annoyingly...endowed.

Aveline nodded. "And they're not setting up fortifications."

"Their leader coming out to talk is also a hint." Garrett muttered without a hint of humour, though Varric still dutifully chuckled.

Shaking his head, Carver growled. "Talk? Pah! We should just tell them to leave, we have the walls and the numbers. Remember that beast back in Lothering? They're not like us."

"Correct...though I'd hardly condemn an entire people due to the actions of a single example." Garrett calmly retorted with that infuriating slightly kind look he always had when rebuking Carver, making Carver grit his teeth as that feeling of being a child in comparison once more took hold.

"Wonder what he'll do..." Isabela muttered, sounding strangely pensive as she leant her elbows on the battlement, her eyes dull.

The one she was referring to was the Viscount, the man had ridden out to meet with the Qunari leader in between the small force of Qunari and the city, a surprising show of courage of an old man Carver had heard little good about. Of course Carver held some sympathy with the man after he had seen him ride towards the gate while followed by a throng of nobles coming with suggestions, ideas or outright _instructions_...before scurrying off to their walls while he went to face the Qunari that even unmounted managed to dwarf the Viscount. _Cowards_.

Of course, Viscount Dumar was not entirely on his own, Meredith, the commander of the Templars of Kirkwall, and arguably the _real_ power of Kirkwall, was with him. Despite her mount being as big and impressive as Dumar's, she somehow sat atop it differently, making it seem even _larger_, more intimidating. Her dark armour shone in the afternoon sun, as did the sword strapped to her back...an impressive sight, if she had not been a Templar anyone could take her for a warrior-queen.

Yet despite appearing far more powerful than Dumar, and being the real power in Kirkwall, the woman seemed, as far as Carver could tell from such a distance, far less interested in the discussion. In fact, Carver had seen her look at the sun several times during the deliberations between the two parties, as if a merchant checking the time, wondering when he should close shop and go home.

Instead it was the Viscount that talked, and talked, and _talked_...and then made the odd gesture as he talked a bit more.

It was hard to tell from a distance, but the Qunari leader didn't seem impressed...but nor upset, in fact Carver could almost imagine one of Garrett's patient looks on the giant's face as he regarded the babbling leader of the city before him. Only rarely did the Qunari seemed to speak, and when he did the viscount _listened_...even Meredith seemed to pay at least _some_ attention to the man's words...before going back to being bored as Dumar once more started to speak.

"I still say he should tell them to get lost." Carver grumbled, glaring at the army outside, he still remembered that murderous beast back in Lothering, and hoped he was now dead and eaten by the Darkspawn...the idea of having an army of them within the city was _abhorrent_.

"It's a complex issue." Garrett muttered back, eyeing the discussion ahead with interest, as if he could actually hear the conversation. "Refusing them entry could well lead to war with the Qunari, and Kirkwall has enough problems as it is. Additionally the nobles seem interested in letting the Qunari in, seeing an opportunity for trading, I assume, this means they will pressure Dumar for letting the Qunari enter, and I do believe they have more influence than the city guard on the matter."

Aveline snorted at the words, but didn't argue.

"Also keep in mind that Dumar has little _real_ power...though perhaps more leeway in this matter since the last batch of runaway mages are keeping the Templars attention...this means that it's not really him, but the _circumstances_ that dictate his actions..." Carver yawned at the lecture, but Garrett ignored it. "...not to mention that Dumar has a history of indecisive actions, he's a man of compromise, not one who dictates how things are to be."

Varric let away a low whistle. "Someone has been doing his reading..."

"It's just pieces I've picked up on." Garrett dismissed the compliment with a shrug, probably not even registering it as such, much to Varric's amusement.

Aveline was frowning, eyeing the negotiations ahead. "So what do _you_ think he should do?"

"I think Carver is correct."

"_What_?" Carver spluttered, so surprised it took a moment to register that Garrett was actually _complimenting_ him.

"That unused to being right, huh? Good to know..." Carver shot Varric a glare at the words, but that only made the dwarf grin.

"As you said, we have the numbers and the walls." Garrett calmly regarded him. "These Qunari cannot enter, and considering that they live far to the north, have several nations between us and them. As such, I have difficulty seeing them mounting an expedition to besiege Kirkwall; crossing by land would initiate dozens of wars, and Kirkwall is _designed_ to resist assaults by sea. A war would be smoke and no fire, but having Qunari _within_ the walls...it's a different story, we have enough problems as it is...I cannot see trading opportunities as enough reason to let them in and risk even _more_ trouble."

"Erm...well...yes...that was basically what I was saying..." Carver muttered, still somewhat taken aback. He _knew_ his brother didn't always disagree with him, nor attempt to make him seem foolish, yet whenever they spoke Carver always found himself defensive for some reason...it was...frustrating.

"Seems they've made a decision." Isabela muttered, making Carver breathe a sigh of relief as attention was drawn from him and the subject to the sight of Dumar and Meredith wheeling their horses around and riding back towards the game.

"And the _interesting_ one as well..." Varric replied, a twinkle in his eyes. Following his gaze, Carver saw the Qunari stride back towards the ranks of his men...and by simply raising a closed fist giving his command.

With frightening precision the block of Qunari warriors shifted, smoothly turning into a column that with barely breaking stride from the change of formation, started to march for the city.

Aveline was sighing, no doubt already imagining the troubles ahead, as she placed a gauntleted hand over her face, fingers rubbing her temples.

Garrett, on the other hand, arched an eyebrow at Varric. "Interesting?"

"Well the nobles are not the _only_ ones seeing an opportunity here..." Varric replied, grinning.

Garrett's face twitched, a flicker of a smile appearing. "You do have a point..."

8

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for always being there when needed._


	18. Chapter 18

Somewhat surprised, Garrett found himself having a good time.

It had been mother's idea – not surprising considering the rumours she heard of her children's activities, despite their attempts to hush things up – to hold a dinner for them and all their 'friends'. _How_ she had gotten the invitations out Garrett was unsure, probably by using his siblings and Varric, who Garrett couldn't keep quiet about due to their business.

Garrett hadn't liked it. A dinner for so many people cost money, money better spent elsewhere...but he admitted that with mother's idea of everyone bringing something with them, the cost had been negligible even in his own eyes. Of course, his main problem with it had been the fear of exposing Leandra to the people they were associating with, or rather, making her worried about what they might tell her.

Everything had gone smoothly so far though.

So now he sat at the head of the table, his mother to his left and Varric to his right. By combining the two tables they owned they had enough space for everyone and their food, chairs were in short supply though, and as such the guests had been offered them while Garrett and the rest of the family had to make do with crates that stored what little surplus food they owned.

Aveline was at the first seat to the left of the head of the table, though her gloves were off she was still in her armour since she had come directly from work. The food she had brought was a Ferelden-style gruel that the guards preferred; it was rich, full of meat and more importantly, there was lots of it. Currently she was focused on her food, though biting her lower lip as she patiently endured Carver as the man next to her once more tried to make her accept him into the guard. Garrett understood her reasons for not helping him in, Carver wasn't exactly good at following orders...though Garrett would have preferred it if she'd help him, the boy could use to learn some discipline, and the family could certainly use a stable income as well as being seen as more upstanding than they currently were.

Further to the right Gamlen sat, he had initially been directly at Garrett's side, but switched places with Varric, formally so the dwarf and Garrett could talk easier, but more likely it had something to do with the eagerness he was showing while speaking to a bored looking Isabela. The pirate had, true to form, brought the minimal she could to not be seen as rude, and that was in the form of two bottles of cheap wine, one of which she had drained on her own. As such, Garrett didn't really mind the sight of her laying her chin against her palm while resting her elbow on the table, a bored and somewhat tortured look on her face as she shot in the odd word in Gamlen's general direction to keep the man from being insulted. It was hardly enough to encourage him...not that Garrett's uncle seemed to notice.

Anders was also there, at the far side of the table. Initially, Garrett had refused Bethany's shy question about sending him an invitation, at which point she had pouted and nagged, then gotten the idea into mother's head that as a mage, Anders would be a great mentor for her. So then Garrett had had _two_ women of the family pouting at him, arguing with him, _cajoling_ him...in the end he had simply given in, despite his concerns and his previous determination not to have Anders near his family.

Still, the man had brought with him a whole host of spices to be used in their food, enough to last beyond the dinner, all naturally grown within Darktown. He had even brought _tea_...though it wasn't _really_ tea, but a weed that Anders had treated with a series of alchemical substances, suffice to say was that if she had been worried at the sight of him, mother now loved Anders. As such she was smiling at the sight of him and Bethany quietly speaking of the different schools of magic.

All along the table, people were eating, smiling, talking, a friendly and relaxed environment...something the family hadn't enjoyed for _ages_.

Leaning back, relaxing as he sipped Isabela's wine, Garrett let the conversations wash over him.

"But if you know both elemental and healing, why can't I?"

"You know, I think I saw you at the Rose...enjoy pleasure, do you?"

"You _know_ I'm good with a blade, and with all the gangs out there you _need_ quality to best them."

"It's a difficult subject, each mage is born with an innate 'understanding' of a school, making it easier to master it, that you cannot master it is as much in your blood as it is because your father couldn't teach you in it."

"I suppose..."

"Being good with a blade has little to do with being a guard, it's not the army, we're supposed to function in normal society."

"So I _could_ learn it from you?"

"I myself often find myself at the giving side, then again, that's who I am..."

"I function in normal society!"

"To an extent, but if I were you I'd focus on what I'm good at, you could never get truly good at what you don't have a predisposition for. So why not stop injuries to your family entirely by using your power, rather than heal them after they've been inflicted? Best form of healing if you ask me..."

"Sure you are..."

"Your idea of justice is to punch people in the face and you crave recognition and thrill, the guard stands for due process and order."

"So...Hawke, feeling in the mood for some business?" Opening his eyes, Garrett looked over at Varric, finding the dwarf smirking up at him. "Or is the wine too much for you?"

"I'm always ready to talk business." Garrett responded, smiling back, unsure if it was the wine speaking or if he actually found the dwarf genuinely pleasant to speak to. Then again, it could be the fact that Varric had actually brought _half_ of the food on the table, the dwarf had even had paid two men to help him _carry_ it all in. "Is this about the Qunari?"

"Horrible creatures if you ask me, remember the one back in Lothering?" Leandra spoken up, having overheard them. "Slaughters three families and then just stands there in their remains as the guards show up, didn't show a _hint_ of regret...and now we have _hundreds_ of them in our city!" She shook her head. "If my father was alive to see this he'd throw a fit..."

Recognising the melancholy in her voice, Garrett offered a small smile and a hand on her arm, making her smile back. Then he turned back to Varric. "Well?"

"Not really...these Qunari are military, not big on making business..." Varric chuckled. "...much to the frustration of merchants and nobles alike." _Hmm_..._wish we had the money to invest in books, I should read up on these Qunari_... "Besides, they're big fish, we're not...in fact, this job I'm thinking of is not really one giving lots of money...but it's an investment."

"An investment, how?" Garrett asked, leaning forward. He had come to appreciate Varric's view on things, the dwarf knew how the city worked, and his opinion was usually worth listening to.

"Well, thing is...Hawke is a name known within Kirkwall as someone who gets the job done, but it's also not really associated with nice company, if you get my drift." _The_ _Footpads_... "As such the more respectable members in Kirkwall, and that is those with the most money, are hesitant to hire you. It's not so much that they're afraid you can't do their dirty work, it's more that they're afraid that associating with you will dirty their name."

Under his hand, mother twitched, her voice a low murmur. "The Amell's used to be respected..."

He gave her arm a squeeze, but held Varric's gaze. "We can't have that, no, so I assume this job of yours is something...charitable?"

"Don't give me that look." Varric looked exceedingly offended for a moment, making Garrett snort in amusement, then he was grinning as he said. "Sure, it doesn't pay as much as it should, but it shows the Hawkes are more than thieves and mercenaries, someone to _trust_, which is what you want...and the two sovereigns isn't too shabby for simply escorting an elf out of town, right?"

That made Gamlen stir, though to Garrett's surprise it wasn't the money that made him react, his face crunched up in disgust. "Work for elves? Those cheats never pay their debts."

"That coming from the man who made _us_ work to pay off _his_ debt..._to_ an elf." Apparently having overheard them, Bethany spoke up, her tone _frosty_, making everyone in the room look a little uncomfortable and drawing a grimace from Garrett. He knew his sister had never quite forgiven Gamlen for the work they had been forced to take up. Carver was okay with it, mostly because he could sympathise with Gamlen being in the shadow of Leandra, but to Garrett all that was secondary, Gamlen was _family_...you should _not_ harbour ill will to them.

He shot Bethany a disapproving frown, but met a rebellious look that told him it would do no good. Instead he sighed, focusing on the task at hand, he wasn't all that..._comfortable_ with elves any more, he knew it was unfair, Athenril didn't represent her race...yet nowadays their presence made him...edgy. _Not that that's relevant, I'm not doing this so __I__ can be comfortable._ "What are the details?"

"He's named Mouse, probably named himself, orphans tend to do that." Varric shrugged even as Garrett sensed Leandra shudder in sympathy at such a fate. "And he has a bit of a gambling problem...thing is, he's been unable to pay the Coterie their protection-money...not a smart move." Garrett nodded, the fee wasn't _that_ high for people like them, the Hawkes could easily afford it for one, the Coterie relied on many such incomes to make a profit and didn't want to cause too much protests, but those that _did_ were quickly silenced. "And then he owed them for another month...and _another_..."

"I get it." Garrett nodded.

"Actually, he then _won_ on a high stake card game...two gold, right there." Varric chuckled. "So he tries to pay the Coterie back, I mean with two gold he will have loads to spare even if they put interest on the fee, right? Sadly they don't care about the money any more, they want to make an example of him, and he barely escaped to the Alienage with his life."

Garrett nodded. "So now he needs to get out of Kirkwall and is willing to part with his entire winnings to do it? We get paid _and_ are recognised as something beyond criminals? Clever Varric...you know how to work the angles."

The dwarf shrugged, casually studying his fingernails. "That's me, making everybody a winner, but especially us."

"Crossing the Coterie? Going to escort someone with _assassins_ chasing him?" Leandra moved, freeing her arm from Garrett's grip and instead putting her hand on his. "Son, I know you do some..._dangerous_ things..." _And I thank the Maker that you don't know the half of it_. "...but please, this is frightfully dangerous for a few sovereigns."

"It's not so bad, mother." Garrett smiled back, putting his free hand over hers and trapping it between his. "No one said we have to _face_ these assassins...you know I don't take stupid risks, I will think this through and get this done with the least amount of danger."

"O-okay..." His mother took a deep breath and relaxed, though she still looked concerned.

Something Garrett forced himself to ignore as he turned back to Varric. He _also_ ignored Carver's small chuckle...after all, they had taken quite a few dangerous risks as of late. "Very well, I know quite a few paths out of the Alienage, shouldn't be too hard to sneak him out."

"I'm coming with you."

Garrett looked up in surprise. "Aveline?"

The woman had risen from her seat, and now inclined her head at Leandra. "If it's okay with the matron...I do not like you going into danger without an extra shield." Leandra smiled in relief, the woman had really begun to like Aveline, probably because she was so reliable in protecting those she cared for, a trait otherwise rarely found outside the Hawke family, or so it sometimes seemed.

"This...isn't really a guard errand...err...or rather-" Varric exchanged a look with Garrett as the dwarf searched for the proper words.

"I have off duty hours to spend." Aveline shrugged, as if the idea of walking into _more_ danger on your _free_ time wasn't an issue.

"Well...okay then." Varric nodded, then looked down to pick up a piece of a pie he'd been chewing on as he muttered under his breath. "_Scary_ _woman_..."

"I believe I'll come too." Anders spoke, startling Garrett. _What_ _the_...? Looking over at the other end of the table he found Anders look out from beneath his hood with calm eyes. "I need the fresh air and...well honestly it can get a bit dull in my hospital."

"Fair enough..." Garrett muttered, somewhat suspicious as his gaze moved to Bethany's hand laying on top of Anders' arm, the sight making him scowl. Looking guilty, Bethany withdrew it, making his scowl deepen. _He's dangerous, you will __not__ get too close_. His sister averted her gaze. _Good_ _enough_. Garrett turned his gaze to the last guest. "And you?"

"Wha-?" Isabela looked up from her now empty glass, perfectly ignoring Leandra's scowl at the way her boots were resting on the table, and as such also exposing quite a bit of leg...and now eyed Garrett with what was shifting from surprise to annoyance. "Oh _fine_...I love finding out more of these clever little hiding places you know of...but you owe me a pint afterwards."

"Wonderful." Garrett sighed. He had simply asked to be polite and not leave her out of the conversation, he hadn't actually _wanted_ her along...though admittedly her blades would come in handy if his plan failed, so he couldn't be too upset with having won her service in exchange for some information and a pint of ale. _As long as I don't have to share it with her_... "So, Varric, when do we leave?"

"Tonight, yes, sorry about the short notice..." The dwarf offered an apologetic look that Garrett answered with a nod...and then grinned. "But that's no reason not to finish this wonderful dinner, am I right?"

"_Finally_ someone speaks sense." Carver replied, the man digging back into his meal with the hunger only a growing man could summon.

A soft laughter spread across the room.

8

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8

"Ah...the Alienage in all it's glory."

Garrett couldn't quite agree with Varric's positive tone about the place, then again he had a feeling the man was being facetious. He himself simply eyed the surroundings with a wary eye, gaze automatically wandering over the dark corners and rooftops. His new shield felt uncomfortable on his left arm, it was small and round..._too_ small, a buckler, and while Garrett thought the buy had been good for their finances and his own protection, he still found it strange...not his style Carver had called it...and Garrett was ready to agree.

Still, it felt good to have it, he didn't intend for another confrontation, but if their latest adventures had taught him anything it was that plans had a tendency to crumple in the face of surprises.

The Alienage was as dirty and poor as the rest of Lowtown, maybe even worse, yet was still nicer then _Darktown_...Garrett was unsure if the fact that the elven slum of Kirkwall wasn't the worst place to live in was a good or a bad sign.

Still, there was something depressing about the Alienage that Darktown didn't have, something in the way all the buildings sloped, as if ready to fall apart, or simply sink into Darktown the moment a supportive beam gave way. Perhaps it was due to it representing a poverty unlike Lowtown, where there could actually exist _hope_ for a better tomorrow...in the Alienage you didn't get that feeling, it offered the feeling that once you were born there, you would end up dying there.

Yet in a way...that _offered_ hope, a hope of community, of _belonging_. Garrett had been in Denerim, he knew of the elves' Vhenadahl, the tree representing their people. Craning his neck Garrett eyed the high top of the massive trunk, surprised at the lack of destruction inflicted upon the bark and branches, despite the cost of firewood, even the poorest of elves left their tree alone. _Maker knows what they'd do if someone cut it down_...

"Where are all the people?" Bethany muttered the question, tone worried.

Garrett did indeed see that no one was out, but was not surprised. "A group of armed humans have just appeared in the Alienage at night-time." He paused, making his point sink in. "You're really asking why they hide?"

Varric chuckled softly. "Good one."

Arching an eyebrow at the dwarf, Garrett replied. "I...was not making a joke."

"Oh, well that just means you're a natural..." Varric smiled somewhat awkwardly, hesitated, and then pointed over at a distant house. "Oh look, there's our destination." With that, the dwarf begun marching towards the chosen house in large strides, momentarily making the others hurry before they could catch up. The door was on its hinges...and that was as far as it went to quality, there was gaps between the planks it consisted of, a few holes, not to mention a crudely carved picture of a cat eating what Garrett _hoped_ was its own tail.

_The owner really has two sovereigns_? Garrett exchanged a look with Varric, who simply shrugged, after all, if the elf had recently won the money he wouldn't have had time to spend it on a decent door. So he knocked, hearing a distinct whimper as an answer even before he spoke. "Mouse? It's Garrett Hawke, I bring with me Varric Tethras and others, we are here to get you out of the city as per our agreement."

"Thank the Maker." Came a reply, quiet and trembling, then there was a scratching sound of a beam being pulled aside. "Hurry, come in!" The door opened as the elf hissed the words, something in his tone telling Garrett it was no use arguing, the boy would not be much use until he felt safe behind his flimsy door.

Stopping in the middle of the room and turning to face the elf, Garrett ignored the others as they stumbled in and shut the door, with them all there it was cramped, but then again, there were precious little furniture save a cot and a barrel that seemed to both act as table and storage for whatever food the elf owned.

It was indeed a boy, even though it was a bit harder to tell with elves, his skin still looked somewhat unblemished, which meant he hadn't suffered the hardships of working for too long, and the way his untidy blond hair shot out in all directions spoke of great stress. Looking up at Garrett with the unnaturally large and blue eyes that so many elves sported, the boy didn't even seem to notice Garrett shifting uncomfortable as he spoke. "Really, r-_really_ glad you're here...I...I need to leave, now..." The elf glanced back at the door, as if expecting it to explode inwards at any moment.

"Yes, of course." Garrett raised a hand. "However, that being said, we should discuss payment." Behind him, he could feel Aveline scowl at him, but he ignored it, he might be out to improve his name, but he still wanted to be paid.

"P-payment? Y-yes, yes of course..." The elf was trembling, gaze darting between Garrett and the door. "...anything you want...b-but pl-please...he said...I mean _they'll_ get me."

"Two sovereigns was the deal, I want to see them, then I'll take you out." Garrett frowned in confusion. "Wait..._he_?"

"Two...?" The elf's eyes widened in surprise, then he trembled even more. "D-did I say he? Th-that...I...I..." Garrett glared down at the boy, his mood souring, after all he'd been through with Athenril he had precious little patience with elven trickery. _Dammit, if Gamlen is proved right I'm going to beat this elf senseless_..._I will __not__ be cheated_.

"Easy Hawke...come now, son, you can talk to us." Varric spoke, tone soothing.

"I...I..." The elf's gaze moved between Varric's friendly smile and Garrett's scowl, his already big eyes somehow getting even larger and larger. "W-we really should leave quickly...it's...it's supposed to..." Outside, a sound of moving gravel reached them, making the boy's eyes bulge in terror. "We have to move!"

Garrett cursed and lunged for the elf, but the boy was too quick and caught those closer to the door by surprise.

He threw the door open.

Behind it humans in foreign armour stood, the scaly plates covering them giving them a lizard-like appearance, the front of their full helmets creating a dark parody of real faces.

A thud...and the elf stumbled back and fell onto his back, a crossbow-bolt buried in his chest, his still large eyes staring straight ahead in panic, but seeing nothing.

The next moment the door slammed shut, Aveline putting her weight on it before Carver too joined her.

No one tried to open it though.

Stepping closer, Garret scowled, his eyes momentarily moving to the dead elf, then to the door ahead. Ahead, Aveline gave voice to his thought. "Those were _not_ Coterie..." _Something is wrong, this is not about the Coterie_...

Next to the guardswoman, Carver was glaring back at Varric. "How come every job you find involves us getting into mortal danger?"

The dwarf offered a shrug and a chuckle. "Doesn't usually happen, I think you guys are just natural magnets for trouble."

"Well that's _great_..." Carver snorted, then looked over at Garrett with an expectant look on his face even as he drew his sword. "Well, brother? You have a plan?"

Garrett simply raised a hand to usher silence, just in time to hear a rough voice outside growl. "Come out, Fenris, don't make this hard for us. Danarius wants your skin, and if you cooperate I'll make sure you'll still be _wearing_ it."

Varric scoffed. "Charming fellow, isn't he?"

Outside the voice continued. "You think those inside will be of any help? Your second-hand mercenaries have never been a problem before, they'll die the usual way; maybe we'll take the women as slaves this time, it's be a long way home after all..."

Garrett's eyes narrowed. "I'm guessing that _this_..." He prodded the dead elf's head with his boot, there was nothing about the poorly-dressed corpse that told him he was something anyone would want. "...is _not_ Fenris...and that we have just been tricked, as have they."

"Well then we just _tell_ them that." Bethany replied, the woman standing close to him, holding her staff close to her chest.

Behind her, Anders thin lips moved into a smirk. "Yes, you stick your head out and tell them that, I'll be right behind you."

Garrett shot the mage an angry look, but then turned back to Bethany. "Anders is right, they have no reason to believe us, and even if they do I have a feeling they wouldn't spare us." He grimaced, looking around, but as he expected, there was nothing but that small room and their flimsy door. "I'm afraid we have to fight our way out."

"Slavery is illegal in Kirkwall." Aveline growled even as she readied sword and shield. "That means they're criminals." The growl got a decidedly decisive tone. "We can _kill_ criminals."

"I...suppose that's _one_ way to earn money and prestige..." Varric chimed in, understandably not sounding eager.

"Well are we going to get on with it, or are we going to discuss it?" Isabela spoke up, the woman casually leaning on a wall and looking bored...though smirking when she noticed the approving look Carver shot her at her words.

"Right." Garrett sighed. "Aveline, with me up front. Carver, Isabela, flank the door and be ready. Anders, Bethany, behind me and Aveline, be ready with those fireballs. Varric, take the rear." Taking a step forward even as Aveline took one backwards, he placed his own shield next to hers as they faced the door, wood, steel and determination ready for whatever was ahead of them. "When Isabela opens the door they will shoot at us, we take the volley with shield and armour, then the mages open up, then we charge in before they have a time to recover." Garrett nodded, approving of his own plan, then remembered the fight back in the Chantry. "Remember, they expect poor mercenaries, not magic, if we can surprise them and keep them on the back foot, we can rout them."

Around the room, the others nodded, even Isabela wasn't about to argue with the plan, much to Garrett's relief. They trusted his judgement. Garrett himself didn't voice his own doubts. _Yet I don't know the enemy numbers, nor their training or motivation_..._for all we know there could be a hundred of them out there, all willing to fight and die_.

He took a deep breath.

_Dammit_.

His face grim, Garrett gave the word. "Open it."

Isabela carefully reached out and gave the door a shove before pulling her hand back.

Beyond was the darkness of the night, made all the darker by the shadow of the Vhenadahl...and the men beneath were covered in scale armour and wore their cruel face-masks, making them resemble demons. Garrett spotted four of them right ahead with levelled crossbows...and a man in robes. _Mage_!

Garrett didn't have time enough to shout a warning.

Four bolts whipped forth, one punching through Garrett's shield before it came to a stop inches from his chest, another whipping past his ear. Next to him Aveline grunted in pain even as another bolt slammed into her shield, though Garrett didn't have time to see if she'd been hurt as he saw the mage ahead thrust his staff forth.

It was by pure luck that a fireball didn't shoot forth. Instead a beam of pure frost arched forward and crashed into Garrett's shield. He stumbled backwards, then straightened, staring in shock at the shimmer of ice covering his shield, even the bolt buried within it was covered with a thick layer of ice.

There was no time to count his luck however, stepping to the side he shouted out. "Now!"

Instantly two fireballs hurled past his face, turning the area just outside the door into a raging inferno and making screams wail up at the sky.

Carver and Isabela were out the door a moment later. The former jumped forward to deliver a fearsome swing at a man charging from the left with a raised shield, the blow knocked the man onto his face as it struck his shield, but Carver barely noticed as he rushed onwards, his swinging blade forcing another foe to fall flat on his back as he stumbled on one of the Vhenadahl's roots. The later leapt atop one of the men scrambling to reload his crossbow, her daggers quickly entering and exiting his body before she jumped away from a swinging sword by a man coming in from the right.

Garrett and Aveline charged forth as one, though Garrett was unsure if his shout about charging the mage was heard over the din of battle. Aveline was charging at the robed man, so she had probably realised the biggest threat as well.

A threat that would not let himself simply be killed.

Noticing the the guardswoman charging at him, the mage put a hand and shoved one of the crossbowmen before him at her. Aveline simply sidestepped the stumbling enemy while slashing his gut open, eyes on the prize...and was then hurled backwards as the mage's outstretched hand threw a lightning bolt that struck her shield in a explosion of dazzling light.

A wordless growl escaped Garrett...and he crashed into the two remaining crossbowmen, knocking them aside with his sheer bulk and the force of his charge. His sword slashed at the mage, striking a raised staff and splintering the wood with a satisfying crack. The mage gasped as he stumbled backwards until his back hit the Vhenadal, one hand dropping the broken wood as the other quickly shot forth.

_Pain_!

Cursing, Garrett found his right foot encased in ice, freezing it to the ground when his blade was but an inch from his foe. _Just_..._a_ _bit_..._more_... Grunting, he leant forward, feeling his foot bend within its prison as the mage ahead, stuck between the tree and the point of Garrett's blade, drew a deep breath and pulled himself back as far he could, his voice strained. "Help me, men! _Now_!"

Behind Garrett there was the explosion of another fireball, the clash of steel against steel, screams...but no help.

The mage gasped, tried to wriggle away...and _screamed_ as Garrett slowly, inexorably, forced the blade into contact and then through the man's robes and into his flesh.

Before him, the mage thrashed and gasped, hands clutching at the blade as it buried itself deeper even as the ice around Garrett's foot began to break apart.

The man went still...and silence descended.

Turning, Garrett felt relief as the cold seeped away from his foot, his gaze was however on the battlefield. There the ground was scorched and sizzling from magic, a near dozen corpses lay badly burnt, showing just how many of their foes had been caught in the initial blasts, they had _clearly_ not expected to face magic. A few more corpses lay with those caught in the blasts, spread out, felled before they had time to recover and regroup. _Just as planned_.

Garrett grimaced when he caught sight of Aveline however. The woman was alive, but sitting with her back against the wall and glowering at her left arm as she nursed it with her other, the shield she had held nothing but splinters, a crossbow bolt had pushed itself into her right leg as well, though due to her armour it was a minor wound from whence only a trickle of blood came. "Anders, help her."

The mage dully obeyed even as Bethany looked over Garrett's shoulder, eyes wide. "Uhh...brother?"

Realising she was not the only one staring, Garrett turned, hearing Isabela whistle low in appreciation behind him as he did so. "Impressive..."

Six more corpses lay over by the entrance to the Alienage square, too far away to have been killed by any of Garrett's group...which was made all the more obvious by the elf standing atop one corpse as he pulled a two-handed warhammer out of the smashed face-plate of another. _Six_ _men_...? Garrett's grip firmed on his sword even as he turned, Garrett eyed the elf more carefully.

The man was tall for an elf, practically Garrett's height, that coupled with the normal elven thinness gave him a gangly look, as if his limbs were too long for his body. His white hair almost seemed to shine in the darkness and was swept over to one side, nearly covering his face, but not his teal eyes, eyes smaller than those of a usual elf, smaller and _stronger_...lacking the usual submissive look Alienage elves had, instead there was _defiance_ in them.

Only a moment later Garrett noticed the tattoos. They traced an intricate pattern over what skin was exposed, and Garrett got the definitive impression they continued underneath the leather clothing the elf wore...and considering the way they shimmered like silver reflecting fire Garrett found his eyes widen as realisation dawned on him. "_You_ are Fenris!"

"Funny." Varric muttered as he stepped up next to Garrett, his tone suggesting he didn't find it the _least_ funny. "When the guy said he wanted the elf's skin I didn't figure he meant _literally_."

The elf ignored him, his eyes moving to regard Bethany and Anders, in particular the later as he bent over Aveline and let his healing magic do its work...the eyes narrowed, the defiance in them seemingly growing. Then he looked over at Garrett, his eyes losing some of its anger in favour of a more neutral look. His voice had an odd timbre to it, as if he was supposed to have several accents, but had gotten caught between them all. "I am Fenris, yes, and I do believe I owe you thanks. You made my work dealing with these mercenaries far easier...who knew this city contained people who could actually _fight_?"

Garrett glared back. "I do not appreciate being tricked, and considering you're surprised we helped more than you anticipated I'm guessing you expected us to _die_."

"I expected you to distract these slavers." The elf replied neutrally, cocking his head to the side. "That way I had time to raid their base of operations and get back here in time to ambush them between myself and the bait...I'm guessing Mouse died? A shame." He shrugged. "Did I expect you to survive? Maybe not all of you, but I am pleased none the less, it is hard paying back debts to dead men."

Garrett paused, scrutinising the elf with hostility, but also wariness. He didn't feel like fighting any more people, especially not someone who could kill six men on his own...and that the elf recognised a _debt_...well Garrett was not one who'd let his pride get in the way of what was needed. "I say you _do_ owe a _great_ debt...this was not what we signed on for."

"True." The elf inclined his head in agreement and reached for his pouch. "However, this..." He threw the pouch forward, making Garrett's hand dart out and catch it. "...is all I have."

Garrett opened the pouch...and his face dropped, anger swelling deep in his gut. "This is...five silvers and two coppers."_ Should have known_...

Behind him Carver exploded into a small laugh, mirthless and irritated.

"Yes." The elf stoically replied. "My apologies, these slavers didn't have much in the way of money on them, or perhaps they did but hid it too well for me to find." He shrugged. "However, I do not intend to leave this town for a while, I have grown weary of...well to be honest, of running away." Another shrug. "So seeing as I'll be staying here, and that I don't like being in anyone's debt, I'm willing to offer you some sort of deal to clear it; is that to your satisfaction?"

"A _deal_!" Garrett spluttered, wanting to smash the calm elf's face in. _Gamlen's right! I should never have_..._no_..._calm_... He took a deep breath...then blinked as an idea came to mind, he smiled...and something in the smile made the elf cock an eyebrow at him. "Yes...actually...me and my friend Varric here are planning an expedition into the Deep Roads, but that is dangerous and requires many guards...say that you accompany us on this expedition free of charge...and I will consider the debt paid."

"He'll never go along with that Hawke..." Varric whispered, but Garrett ignored him as he eyed Fenris for a reaction.

_Bartrand pays ten gold for each guard, I bring in one for free and he'll be more inclined to treat me as an equal_. _Besides, it's good if I can bring along at least one guard obeying __my__ orders, and one as capable as this elf is even better_...

The elf inclined his head. "A steep price, but very well." _Yes_! Garrett held his face in check. "I have precious little else to offer, and to be freed like this...it is worth it."

"Why were these slavers after you, anyway?" Bethany asked, the girl inching closer and her head cocked to the side in curiosity.

Fenris' eyes narrowed at her. "Because their master is a Tevinter Magister, the _foulest_ kind of mage who won't rest until he has skinned me alive." Bethany whimpered as she moved behind Garrett...who by now was glaring at the elf. "But now his hunters are dead, and so will the fate of any other hunter be, and when he himself comes..." Fenris voice darkened. "...I'll rip his heart out and watch its final beats."

"What a cheerful fellow." Anders remarked, the mage now supporting a still limping Aveline, the eyes under his hood flashing blue as he eyed the elf, then looked back to Garrett. "You meet the strangest of people, Hawke."

"That comes from _you_?" Isabela asked with a chuckle. "You _are_ one of the strange people."

Garrett ignored the bickering, his eyes on Fenris, watching the elf glare at Anders, as if the mage having dared to _speak_ was enough to be viewed as an insult. "I do not recall speaking to you, _mage_." He turned his gaze back to Garrett, his tone once more neutral. "Now, with that settled, can I perhaps offer you another deal?"

"I'm listening..." Garrett warily replied, more and more aware that they were speaking on what was battlefield, and that the guard would probably not be happy if they found it like this. Sure, the dead were slavers and they had Aveline with them, but Garrett wasn't too keen on his family being in the spotlight of an investigation.

It didn't seem to bother Fenris though. "As you see I am now quite poor, and while my needs are small I _do_ need to eat...and since you seem to be a capable mercenary-"

"We're more like adventurers...being paid...for odd jobs." Varric chimed in, drawing a giggle from Bethany.

Fenris simply ignored him, as did Garrett. "As such I offer myself to assist you in any of the jobs you deem me to be needed, for a reasonable fee, of course."

Garrett frowned, he didn't like the elf...he _hated_ elven trickery, and also to have his family put into harm's way by someone else like Fenris had just done...but the deal was..._good_. It had no strings to it, either Garrett needed the man on a job, or he didn't, and if he did, the fee was negotiable each time...

He swallowed his anger and pride. _Damn elf makes sense_. "Very well, you have yourself a deal." The elf inclined his head, smiling so weakly it was barely there, and Garrett forced himself to offer the same courtesy.

"Good, though keep those mages away from me."

Garrett's polite nod froze. A moment later he stepped in front of Bethany, tone sharp and cold. "You have a problem with my sister?"

"No." The elf replied. "I have a problem with _mages_, it stems from something called _common sense_." He shook his head, not looking the least intimidated by Garrett's glare. "She and that man there are two untended fires, the moment you turn your back, they will consume us all. You have been warned, and I will do the courtesy of only _watchin_g the fire, and not _acting_...unless I have to."

Garrett grit his teeth, muscles tensing under his armour as he considered the distance between himself and the elf that didn't look like he'd even realised how insulting it was to imply he was ready to kill Garrett's _sister_. Instead of roaring out, which he really wanted, Garrett spoke tersely. "I see...and now I suggest that you _leave_...if I want your services I will _ask_ for them...but I want you to leave..._now_."

The elf took pause at that, his gaze taking in Garrett's tense pose...then nodded. "Very well, I will leave, and thank you, I...look forward to working with you in the future."

With that the elf turned and left...and Garrett's shoulders sagged as he forced himself to relax, forced his anger with the audacity of the elf to recede

Anders dry mutter summed up his thoughts perfectly. "What an arse..."

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for putting up with me._


	19. Chapter 19

"So this is the man, is it?"

Walking into the small, but exceedingly well-furnished, room, Garrett felt a little out of place.

The walls were covered by a Series of silk drapes in warm brown colours, and leaf-like patterns of yellow sewn into them, no doubt they were worth a fortune. Below these drapes low shelves with dozens of glass jars containing all between spices to more esoteric items stood, clearly the room was as much an office as it was a way to show off the trader's merchandise.

The trader himself was dressed in a red doublet, and leather trouSers, fine of make, but functional as well. With his darkened skin he looked Rivaini, but his accent was clearly Orlesian; considering he was a trader his skin was probably due to many travels up into the warm north. His shortly cropped hair and small beard made him look very proper and rich, giving a good, if somewhat haughty, impression. He was standing behind a mahogany desk, the papers atop it in neat piles and a quill sticking up from a glass ball half-empty of its ink...all looking very proper, not at all like a place in crisis.

_Perhaps that's the intended effect_.

With all the riches on display, Garrett stuck out like a sore spot. Wearing the partial plate armour he always did, he had his gloves tucked in his belt, his sword hung from it as well, not to mention the shield slung over his back. It was well-maintained, but not exactly a shining suit of armour which obvious expense would excuse a man entering such a rich place in his battle-gear. But Garrett intended to look like a professional when he presented himself, and the armour looked better than his best tunic with the red patch over the rip in the shoulder.

Still, he wasn't about to be put off by some riches, he'd spent many hours reading in the Lothering Chantry after all, and that place was just as wealthy as this place. So he kept his chin high as he held the speaking man's blue eyes. "I am, and you are Hubert, I believe?" He stepped up to the desk and offered his hand.

Which the man took, his hand soft and yielding slightly to Garrett's grip, which for some reason made the man smile. "I am indeed, Varric has spoken highly of you, and I have heard you are one to be...trusted with _sensitive_ problems. Besides, you are Fereldian, no?"

The dwarf stood next to the trader, looking very relaxed as Garrett shot him an arched eyebrow. "What? You're a good guy...sort of...except you don't look the part when you scowl...yes, like that." He shot Garrett a wink, making the human huff in irritation.

Forcing himself to ignore the dwarf, he had helped in getting this deal after all, so he deServed to take some cheap shots, Garrett focused on Hubert. "I can indeed be trusted with sensitive problems, Ser, however, what does being Fereldian has to do with it?"

Garrett released the trader's hand, who moved to rub it with his other as he regarded Garrett with a surprisingly calm look for one in dire need of help. "Because my workforce, I have a mine called the Bone pit you see, is Fereldian. They are perfect, hard workers, not prone to fearing some old tales, and...erm...they work for less than most others." Hubert had the decency to look a little awkward at that last bit, but Garrett let it slide, he had no loyalties to his old nation, after all. "As such I hope you'll be extra motivated to...well..help them."

"You're sure they are in trouble, Ser? What kind?" Garrett asked the questions, already knowing the answer, Varric might have told Hubert something about Garrett, but the dwarf had told Garrett _everything_ about Hubert and his situation.

"I...don't rightly know." Hubert admitted with a grimace. "I have gotten no word and I sent some of my assistants there to check on them, but they never returned..." He shifted, no doubt awkward about the whole situation. "It's quite vexing."

"So it's probably something dangerous, something that might have killed your assistants." Garrett spoke the words Hubert didn't dare. "And you want me to see what it is and fix it, if possible. That about sums it up?"

"Well...it could be nothing too..." Hubert argued with a shrug and a shake of his head, no doubt aware that they were checking where the price may lie.

"A possibility, Ser, but doubtful." Garrett nodded curtly, intent on looking as professional as possible. "I mean no disrespect, Ser, but I _am_ aware that the Bone pit represents a..._significant_ investment on your part." In fact, Varric had told him half of Hubert's wealth lay in that mine, he was getting to the age of settling down, so the trader was no doubt eager not to lose his investment and be forced to regain so much lost coin.

"True...however, while the trouble may be too much for miners to handle, proper professionals could very likely have little to no issue with it..." Hubert replied, verbally wriggling away from being pinned. "I'm sure many would welcome what's possibly an easy job." _Clever, you've done this before_... Garrett grimaced inwardly knowing he'd have to lower his initial price.

"I'm one of those, Ser." Garrett responded politely. "However, I feel I must point out that it could be anything _but_ easy as well...and given that _I'm_ taking all the risks, along with those I bring with me, to protect _your_ investment I do feel obligated to ask for five sovereigns for the risks and Services rendered."

The die was cast.

Hubert was watching Garrett with interest, rubbing his chin with two fingers.

No doubt he was trying to gauge how nervous Garrett was.

Garrett calmly looked back, unwilling to show how much those five golds would mean to his family.

"What the hell?" The trader shrugged and made a dismissive gesture as a flash of teeth appeared between his lips. "You have yourself a deal." He offered his hand.

Garrett took it with a smile, even as he inwardly grimaced, realising Hubert had been willing to offer more and was glad for having made such a good deal...but a trade was a trade, and Garrett wasn't foolish enough to risk such a vast sum. "Thank you, Ser, I will not fail you."

Hubert's smile was pleased. "That's what I've heard."

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"Hold up."

Holding up a clenched fist, Garrett dropped onto one knee, narrowed eyes scanning the scene before him. Next to him Aveline dropped down along with him, sword already drawn as she too looked at the sight of the Bone pit. Getting her to come along hadn't been difficult, all Garrett had to do was mention that all the workers were Fereldian and that he and his siblings might be in danger...and she was ready to spend her free time in helping out.

He shot her an appreciative look

Garrett had tried asking Anders for help as well, but the mage had simply been swamped by work back at the clinic. Apparently some sort of plague had broken out in Darktown and Anders had too many to help, or rather, make their passing into the Fade less painful. In the end Garrett was glad to have gotten Bethany out of there before her idea of helping out had gotten too firmly rooted.

The girl was currently standing near Varric, hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle at whatever the dwarf had told her. Garrett wasn't all that comfortable with him imparting some of his more..._colourful_ tales on his sister, but she deserved some happiness among all the fear of the Templars and worry about mother and their family. Carver was with the two as well, rolling his eyes at Varric's joke, yet apparently not finding it unbearable enough to walk away, his armour creaking as he shifted where he stood, glancing over at Garrett, looking for orders, despite almost always questioning them. _Stubborn_ _boy_...

Garrett had considered bringing Fenris with them as well, despite what the elf might think of Bethany, he would probably be professional, and Garrett had no reason to question the elf's skills...but in the end the idea of parting with some of the gold was too painful, particularly since Garrett knew he could have earned more.

As to the idea of bringing Isabela...Garrett had swiftly squashed that idea when he remembered how much ale he had to buy her _last_ time she offered her help in exchange for a drink...'_a_' was apparently not a set number.

He also hadn't brought Maric along, while the Mabari would have been good to have, there had been a few silvers missing from their coffers. Garrett wasn't about to blame uncle Gamlen, as Bethany, Carver and mother were, because he was surely loyal to the family enough to know not to steal from it, but it couldn't _hurt_ to leave the dog behind to watch their money...

"Doesn't look good." Aveline muttered, drawing Garrett out of his thoughts and focusing him at the task at hand. "Bandits?"

The camp before the mine was in ruins. The few wooden structures that had been set up were barely smouldering pieces of charcoal, the large camp-fire had died out, the content of a large pot poured over it as those that had been cooking had been taken by surprise. There were a mere two corpses though, which was a good sign. _Or a bad, if it's slavers_..._it_ _would_ _complicate_ _matters_. One lay at the doorway to one of the ruined buildings, his body burnt to little more than bones, the other lay by the camp-fire, ripped open from groin to throat, his eyes missing as a raven sitting by his head took flight with a sated caw.

"Don't think so..." He finally answered, his gaze, and then finger, finding the second corpse and pointing at the silver ring on his finger. "...they would have taken that, maybe the Dalish? They hate humans and I've heard they're nearby." Garrett made a mental note to remind himself about contacting them, Flemeth was not someone you wanted to go back on a deal with...dangerous elves or not. _Eugh, as if I haven't had enough of elves_...

"They don't usually attack settlements..." Aveline retorted, making Garrett open his mouth to question her definition of 'settlement', only for her to then point at the mine entrance itself, rising slightly above the camp. "Hey, isn't the gate down and locked? Maybe the miners are still there?"

Garrett looked up, and could indeed see a steel gate. The grilled bars were rusty and looked as if they were ready to fall apart at any moment, but they were indeed closed, and the lock on it looked new, and more importantly, still locked. "It's a possibility..." He frowned. _I don't like the situation_..._it's_ _too_ _quiet_. "Bethany, Varric, you stay back here on the hill, keep low among the trees. Carver, stay with them for now, just in case..." He frowned at Carver's grumbled complaint, but didn't honour it with a response, Carver would do as he was _told_. "Aveline, we'll carefully move forward, see what's out there."

"Shields up and eyes peeled." Aveline muttered, then nodded. "Fair enough." Getting up, she freed her shield. "You coming?"

"Always." Garrett smoothly rose, drawing shield and sword with practised movements before moving forward, Aveline at his left side.

Ahead, nothing moved.

Aveline's heavier armour creaked painfully loudly to Garrett's ears as they moved down the forested hill and towards the camp, shields and eyes constantly moving, shifting to protect themselves from any angle even as they tried to detect anything dangerous.

Nothing met them though.

_Too_ _quiet_...

Garrett glanced back at the tree-line, a worm of worry in his gut as he hesitantly put words to what had been bugging him. "Aveline...isn't the forest awfully...quiet?"

"Well...I saw that one raven..." Aveline responded, the hesitation in her voice betraying her worry.

Ahead, something moved.

The warriors came together, shields locking together to face the charge...only to realise the movement was what seemed to be a lot of workers appearing on the other side of the gate to the mine, their waving hands frantic.

Exchanging a look with Aveline, Garrett felt his shoulders slump in relief as Aveline moved forward, raising her voice. "Don't worry! We're here to-"

A roar cut her off.

Eyes wide, they saw part of the mountain above the entrance to the Bone Pit _move_, or rather, the _creature_ that had moulded itself to it.

With sinuous grace, the creature, as large as two horses, slid off the mountainside and dropped down before the Bone Pit gate, making the miners within stumble back into the darkness. Its eyes were fixed on _Aveline_ though, a dark ember of hunger within them. Its scales were a motley grey and atop the sinuous body two tiny vestigial wings existed, which in no way drew the attention away from the massive claws atop its feet.

"Dragon!" Aveline shouted the unnecessary warning even as the creature hurtled forward, another roar escaping it.

_Drake_, _actually_.

It felt unreal as the correction entered Garrett's mind. Considering how the Dragon age had started very recently, he had figured it interesting to read up on the creatures back in Lothering, which made him able to figure out the gender of this beast, but he had _never_ thought he'd _see_ one...

Especially not to watch it leap up as it charged at a tiny-looking Aveline!

Garrett stood transfixed, too stunned to move...and then Bianca sang, the crossbow slamming a bolt into the drake's head, just underneath its jaw.

The roar of the creature was cut short by the attack, only to be followed by a crash as it fell forward, knocking Aveline underneath its massive weight even as the tip of her sword appeared through its back with a crunch.

A wail rose from the creature, its claws ineffectually tearing at the ground and its head thrashing back and forth as blood poured out from its mouth, more of it pouring out underneath it as the sword lodged within it was tearing its wound ever larger by its own actions.

"Get this ploughed thing _off_ me!" Aveline cursed, her voice tinged with pain, breathlessness and _anger_. Garrett saw the woman try to push the creature aside with the shield that was squashed between her and it, but she could simply not get any leverage on the beast inadvertently crushing her in its throes of agony. "_Now_!"

Finally shaking off the shock, Garrett ran forth, or rather, sprinted in a circling motion so as to hit the drake's side.

Sword first, he slammed into its flank, the blade punching through scales, between ribs and deep into its body. It rolled away from the blow, and Garrett was pulled along as he tripped over a gasping Aveline, the world spun around him before he was hurled to the ground with a crash, his sword still in his hands as he slid away from the bowled over drake.

A drake simply laying there, silent.

Garrett blinked, not quite realising what they just had done as a ragged cheer reached them from beyond the Bone Pit. Struggling to his feet, he found himself looking over the body at Aveline as she brushed herself off, looking somewhat miffed as she shot him a glare. "You took your sweet time."

He only stared back.

"What?"

"Errr...you have a little something..." Garrett gestured at his face, struggling not to smirk. "...all over you..."

Aveline sighed and moved a hand down to her belt...only to find the cloth tucked into it as soaked in dark blood as the rest of her was. It was covering the front of her armour, her neck, her face, a whole lot of it had caked her hair into an tangled mess where no single strand could be picked out. An annoyed growl escaped Aveline's mouth as she touched the part in question, her forehead creasing in a frown. "Great, as if I don't have to wash it enough with all the Darktown patrols..."

A small puff of air escaped Garrett, making her look back at him, eyes narrowed.

It took a great force of will for Garrett not to let the stifled chuckle escape him. Instead he tried to focus at the task at hand. "Well, at least we were somewhat lucky, could have been much..."

Several shrill cries followed...and the rocks above the bone pit was suddenly alive with movement as deer-sized dragonlings appeared, rushing down like ants having caught a scent of an intruder.

"...worse."

A curse, and Aveline and Garrett stood shoulder to shoulder, the two putting themselves behind the dead drake as what could well be his young attacked. "Carver! Get down here! Varric! Bethany! _Help_!"

Instantly, Bianca sung once more, but the bolt harmlessly bounced against the rocky ground as Varric's attention was caught between so many targets. As such Bethany's fireball was more effective, the ball itself striking the foremost dragonling square in the chest before the explosion enveloped a further five.

But when the smoke cleared, only the foremost dragonling lay dead, the others trundling on like nothing had happened, the edges of their green scales smouldering like dying embers. _Note, dragons don't much care about fire_..._useful_ _to_ _know_ _if_ _we_ _survive_. "Ice, Bethany, _ice_!" The first dragonling leapt over the dead drake even as Garrett called out the words...and then it instantly fell as his and Aveline's swords darted out from behind their shields, a quick thrust before going back into defensive guard...and the beast was dead.

Carver was less defensive.

Leaping over the drake, the man shouted a battle-cry that Garrett didn't catch the words off...and slashed at the dragonling trying to bite him.

A crunch...and everything above the jaw of the dragonling's head was sent flying. Carver spun with the swing...and his next swing took another dragonling in the throat, the blade slicing right through the beast's neck in a fountain of dark blood. A third leapt at his back...only to be struck by white light, making it stop mid-stride as its entire body was covered in a solid sheen of frost.

Carver glanced over at it, roared...and spun around to swing, the blade striking the creature's torso and shattering it into a pieces of frozen flesh with a sickening crunch.

Then Aveline and Garrett joined him. The woman crashed into a dragonling trying to jump at Carver's back, bowling it over with her shield and pressing a knee into it as she started to pummel it with the pommel of her sword. Meanwhile Garrett found himself slamming his own shield into the side of a dragonling's head, making it stumble past him and into Carver's waiting blade even as Garrett himself thrust his sword at a creature leaping at him, skewering it through the mouth as he let its momentum do the work for him.

_Dragons, whatever the size, are still beasts_. Garrett remembered what he had learnt well, and was not surprised when two more dragonlings, undaunted by their losses, threw themselves at him. One fell as Varric got his aim straight, the other fell as Garrett repeated his trick, letting the beast jump at him for a bite, only to impale itself as his blade entered its mouth.

Silence.

_Air_... Garrett leant on his knees as he looked over at the others, making sure they were okay even as he took deep breaths to calm his heart. Despite Aveline looking awful, they had come off surprisingly well. He exchanged a pleased nod with the woman as she pulled the pommel of her sword free from the crater in a dragonling's skull.

"Huh..." Carver muttered, the man poking a dead dragonling with his sword, looking a bit miffed. "...that was almost _too_-"

"Don't say it! I don't want a high dragon coming down because you challenge fate!" Aveline cut in, a note of panic in her voice, making Carver look guilty even as Garrett arched an eyebrow. _You_? _Superstitious_?

Aveline simply shot the drake a pointed look, then shrugged, offering a weak smile as the sounds of the gate opening and the cheers of the miners reached their ears.

Garrett caught himself smiling back.

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Garrett was...well...a little drunk.

Which was probably why he was smiling, despite not feeling as if he should.

It had all started well enough, the miners had been ecstatic at having been rescued, and when it was revealed that in particular the leader of the rescuers was Fereldian...well then they simply _had_ to buy him a pint.

Garrett had, of course, not been interested. He had better things to do, like collect his reward, find other jobs, get his sister away from some of the more leering miners, help mother with dinner...

Then Varric had gently suggested that perhaps allowing them to do this would make the word about his deed go out further, that coming off as distant to those you get paid for helping wouldn't help to get jobs...and after that the details were a bit fuzzy.

So they had gone to a tavern. It hadn't been the Hanged Man, so the ale was poor, but there had been a _lot_ of miners, and _each_ wanted to buy him at least _one_ drink...and after a while the stuff hadn't tasted so bad...

_I see where_ _I_ _went_ _wrong_ _there_.

Garrett nearly giggled at his thought, but controlled himself, the smile endured though, despite his current situation.

The cheerful miners were behind him. A few were softly chanting his name, no doubt the alcohol being partly to blame for it. Before him though, his employer stood. Hubert looked a bit surprised as he gazed at Garrett, probably because he had expected to get a professional back, not a man listing ever so slightly...but other than that he looked _pleased_.

_And pleased is good_..._very_ _good_..._goodish_... Garrett blinked, forcing himself to focus.

"Dragons, you say?" Hubert rubbed his chin. "That is...well _extraordinary_, and they're all dead, you say?"

"Every single one!" One of the miners exclaimed exuberantly, putting two big hands on Garrett's shoulders and giving it a shake. "You should have seen it, this guy _personally_ wrestled the biggest one to the ground with his bare hands!" Garrett smiled at that, he was pretty sure that hadn't happened, but he wasn't about to argue the details when he was in no state to _remember_ them.

"Indeed?" Hubert didn't look convinced, but his gaze moved over the cheering miners and something behind his eyes flashed, something making Garrett straighten as he tried to sober himself up. "Well, Hawke, seems I got quite a deal with you, dragon slaying...your payment." The trader dropped a pouch in Garrett's hands, then put a hand around Garrett's shoulders as he said. "Oh and could I...talk with you for a moment...privately?"

"Of course, Ser." Garrett responded, sobering up even more as he offered the miners behind him a thumbs up before letting Hubert drag him a bit away from them. "What may I help you with?"

"Listen...these miners are...well...not very motivated at times." Hubert muttered, head bent low as he spoke to Garrett, making him bend his head as well. "...I admit I'm no good in dealing with..._people_...but they _love_ you, just knowing you have their back will make them work harder. And considering dragons have infested the mine once before...it would be good to have someone capable of clearing out danger with an interest in doing just that."

"What are you saying, Ser?" Garrett asked, befuddled, his normally sharp mind still moving a bit sluggishly.

"I'm _saying_ that I appreciate working with a man capable of fighting _dragons_." Garrett now remembered quite clearly that nothing as large as an _actual_ dragon had been fought...but he wasn't about to argue. "I'm _saying_ that I appreciate having workers feeling safe and motivated...I'm saying that's worth _money_ to me..." Garrett blinked, the alcohol almost forgotten at that moment. "...say...twenty-five percent of any future profits? Of course we have to have it in writing...but what do you say, some protection and meetings with the odd miner and you earn a steady sum?"

Garrett struggled not to stare at the trader, to not reveal his shock...or the hunger in his heart, the _greed_.

Judging by Hubert's face, he wasn't very good at it. "I say...you have a deal Ser."

"Great." Hubert took Garrett's hand, giving it a firm shake before turning around, and still holding Garrett's hand, raising it up at the sky. "Listen up boys, Hawke here has agreed to work with me, never will you have to worry about what's waiting you at work again!"

The cheer rose high and loud, the men raising fists in the air at the news, a few started chanting, a chant which was swiftly picked up by the others. "Another round! Another round! Another round!"

They looked at him, expectantly, as did Hubert, the trader smirking as he released Garrett and gave him a push towards the workers.

_Well_..._one more can't hurt, I'm sure mother will forgive me coming home in a state when she hears of our new income_... Smiling, Garrett shrugged and moved to join the miners.

Who cheered, dragging him off towards that delicious ale...

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for all her hard work._


	20. Chapter 20

"I can't believe you."

Garrett struggled not to roll his eyes as he walked onwards, behind him Carver and Bethany quietly trailed, not about to intervene in the ridiculous argument of the pirate practically stepping on Garrett's heels as he felt her glare bore into the back of his head. Sighing, he forced himself to reply. "Which part? The part where I agreed to take a job from one of your friends? Or the part where I denied him his illegal goods?"

"The _second_, of course!" Isabela fumed. "Look at me!"

Garrett gave in to the urge and finally rolled his eyes, well aware that Isabela's tone was causing quite a few of the people walking along the street to shoot the group curious looks._ I suppose it's too much to ask of __Isabela__ to be discreet_... Coming to a stop, he turned, calmly looking at the pirate, not surprised at finding her glowering at him, which took away much of her usual 'charm'. "Isabela, I took that job on the _expressed_ proviso-"

"I don't even know what a proviso _is_!" Isabela snapped, apparently set on being rude.

Garrett ignored it as he calmly continued "-that there would be no illegal parts in our job."

The pirate tossed her head back with a roll of her eyes. "You do illegal things all the time..."

"Please, say it a little louder..." Carver muttered with a shake of his head, causing Bethany to shoot him a grin.

"_Only_ if the risk is minimal and the gain vital for the interests of my family." Garrett countered, eyes not budging as he met Isabela's gaze. "My time with the Footpads is over, my time as a _criminal_ is over, I will _not_ put my family at unnecessary risks for a few coppers."

"Family, family, family...you really are a one-stringed banjo, you know that, right?" Isabela angrily retorted as she shifted where she stood, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning on her heels.

"That's because I take my responsibilities seriously." Garrett snapped, ignoring how Bethany flinched at the words as he continued. "Now, if you're done with the personal attacks, I will tell you that not _only_ did you lie to me about what we were supposed to get, but _also_ about how many guards there were, just because they are barely armed thugs does not make them harmless, it was too risky, what if they had stayed and fought?"

"Risks is what makes life fun." Isabela managed a chuckle, though her eyes still flashed in anger. "Besides, it was just a _little_ poison!"

"No, it makes it _short_." Garrett snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. "As to the poison...did you know that back in Lothering me and my brother worked for a man named Barlin?"

Isabela sighed, staring at the sky with an exceedingly bored look on her face. But Carver, knowing what Garrett was about to refer to, grimaced at the memory, making Bethany pat his shoulder with a reassuring smile.

"He had this tendency to put out poisoned traps, you see, he figured that he shouldn't just chase the animals off with painful traps, that if he _killed_ enough of them they would eat less of his crops. Of course, traps are hard to spot by his workers, as such _Carver_ here once got nicked by one of these traps." Garrett paused, letting the words sink in as he narrowed his eyes at the memory as much as at Isabela. "He was bedridden for two _weeks_, near _death_ for one, and there was _nothing_ any of us could do to help." For a moment, his stomach clenched up, the old terror he had felt resurfacing despite how long ago it had happened. "So if you think I'm about to help distribute more poisons out to people with even _less_ respect for their fellow man than Barlin you are _sorely_ mistaken about my morality."

Isabela just stared at him, right eyebrow arched...then shook her head, voice low. "B-but they wouldn't poison you or your family..."

"And how do you know that?" Garrett snarled. "Are you psychic? Or does the fact that making dangerous things like swords and poisons more easily available to unscrupulous characters make the city less safe for those living in it not register to you? That by protecting a group you're protecting the individual?"

Isabela stared at him for another moment, then her shoulders dropped as she shook her head. "You're impossible..._fine_, I get it."

"I'll have you know I'm quite reasonable." Garrett responded with a shrug as he turned and moved back to his path. "It's not my fault you lied to me, the consequences are yours to deal with."

Behind him there was a loud snort, a pause, then a sigh. "Where are we going?"

"_I'm_ going to Varric to see a dwarven merchant about a job." Garrett responded, not breaking his stride as eagerness drove him on. This job struck him as dangerous, but with the risk came great rewards...and Garrett felt _greed_ grip him, he _wanted_ the money, he _wanted_ to get to the deep roads, he wanted his family to finally be _safe_. "As to where _you're_ going, I would guess the Hanged man." He tried not to shoot the pirate a glare.

"Ohhh...I sense good pay..._and_ fun!" Instantly Isabela forgot all about her complaining, her voice tinged with excitement.

Garrett sighed. "And _why_ would I bring you along?"

For a moment there was silence, _hostile_ silence...then Isabela visibly perked as she spoke in a way suggesting she just came up with it. "Because I'm a good fighter, and you _know_ it, so I'll follow your lead, do as I'm told like ah...ugh..._good_ girl, and you get the lion share of the treasure." He glanced back, finding the woman shrugging. "I just need a silver or so and I can get a good week of drinking in if a few charming men add their coins..."

_Oh brother_..._why not __save__ the money for that bloody ship you daft_... Garrett took a deep breath, as he turned back to see where he was going, it wasn't his job to tell Isabela to do with her money. _One silver for her services on a big job __is__ a good deal though_... "Very well, on the proviso-"

"See, there's that word again!"

"-on the _condition_ that you _do_ obey my orders, and no arguing your price mid-job again." Garrett continued, not breaking stride, nor allowing Isabela to see what he thought of the deal. _She's unbearable, but a silver for a good warrior for what might be a tough job_?_ I'll take that with the headache of her company any day_.

"Deal!" Isabela exclaimed, sounding decidedly pleased.

_Idiot_. Garrett struggled not to smirk.

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"I can't believe you're getting twenty gold for this..." Isabela muttered, she was pouting, much to Garrett's enjoyment, but he didn't allow it to show, nor take his attention away from his work.

Javaris was paying _well_ for the removal of the Tal Vashoth, _exceedingly_ well, then again, with a great product within reach, it was an investment the dwarf would get back in full, and _quickly_. As to Garrett, he could not help but jump at an opportunity to earn so much of what he would need for the journey into the Deep roads.

But the challenge was up, the gold wasn't free, it would be paid in pain, blood and even death if they weren't careful.

Garrett wasn't about to let that happen, he had called _everyone_ in.

His siblings, it was a risk, but one he had to take.

Maric, not even the Mabari could be spared.

Aveline, reliable as always.

Varric, set on helping Garrett until he had the required amount of sovereigns.

Anders, who Garrett had Bethany convince to help.

Isabela, nursing her silver with a bitter frown.

And Fenris, hired in exchange for first pick of twenty percent of anything the Tal Vashoth had. Apparently the elf was a bit of a gambler, willing to risk getting nothing, and while Garrett could well risk losing a lot of whatever the Tal Vashoth had stored away, he wasn't about to complain, he had his eyes on the _prize_.

The Wounded Coast was one of great dunes of sand constantly lapped at by crystal clear water, with grey cliffs rising up at the sky a few hundred feet further inland. What little vegetation there was clung to the narrow space between the sand and the great cliffs, but they also thrived, the grass, bushes and trees growing tall and being a vibrant green under the blazing sun above.

It was beautiful.

Garrett wasn't about to let that distract him though, kneeling in the sand of one of the large sand dunes, under the shadow of a cliff and the tree growing against it, he was watching Fenris with avid interest.

They would be cautious, not charge in like madmen, as such Garrett intended to take out the sentries outside the cave the Tal Vashoth had made into a base, then quietly move in and kill the giants one by one. No heroics, no fancy moves, quietly and efficiently, minimising the risks. He had told the others this, and Aveline had of course backed him, sensible as she was, while Isabela had pouted a bit, which had been even more reassuring that Garrett was doing the right thing.

Fenris knew about this plan, as such Garrett was a bit confused as to what the elf was doing. Garrett had considered using Isabela and Varric to quietly remove the sentries, but Fenris had volunteered to do it. Which was why it was _very_ strange to see the elf openly stroll towards the cave ahead, his weapon remaining with the rest of the group as he eyed the confused-looking Tal Vashoth.

Part of Garrett wanted to hiss a warning, or sigh at the face of his plan crumpling, but while he had a bad impression of Fenris as a _person_, he also had the distinct impression that the elf _knew_ what he was doing.

As such, Garrett waited, ignoring the looks Aveline and Carver were shooting him.

Ahead, Fenris raised both hands, his words calm and clear...and in a language Garrett vaguely remembered from Lothering and the imprisoned giant there. "Shok ebasit hissra. Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban agun." _He_..._speaks_ _Qunari_? Garrett exchanged a puzzled glance with Aveline, but then they both shrugged, they knew precious little about the elf, after all.

The Tal Vashot seemed equally surprised. The two giants exchanged a glance, then shrugged, making their massive muscles, muscles that made Fenris like a twig, ripple. The one to the left raised his spear though, thumping the end into the floor. "The Qun from an elf? What is this madness?"

The other followed his example, raising the spear until it was no longer aimed at Fenris' chest as the elf continued to advance. "The Qun _is_ madness, and if you're looking for a quick death, I suggest you speak more of it, this is your only warning."

Fenris stopped before them, his hands still in the air, despite being tall for an elf, he was dwarfed by the massive Qunari. " Maraas shokra." His body came alight, reminding Garrett of Anders' Justice. "Anaan esaam Qun." And his hands shot forth.

Two grunts...and Garrett found himself gasping as the elf's hands effortlessly slid into the chests of the Qunari. The giants looked equally shocked, staring down at where the arms had pushed in, at the light surrounding the wounds that weren't wounds.

Then they groaned...and fell...and Fenris stepped back and ripped his hands free, holding two beating hearts in them.

_What_ _the_..._hell_! Garrett came to his feet, already moving down as he saw the elf casually toss the hearts aside and turn to face the group hurrying down, his still bloody hands reaching towards Carver. "My hammer, please."

Carver hesitated, face pale and eyes on one of the hearts that seemed intent on still beating as it sunk into the sand.

Garrett pulled the weapon free from his brother and tossed it to the elf, eyes narrowed. "What was that? Are you a mage? An _abomination_? You speak ill of magic, but that looked like magic to me, _dangerous_ magic."

"I'm no mage." The elf snarled, cocking his head to the side. "This...magic if you will call it...was not imbued in me by choice, but by a Tevinter Magister; it's useful, but painful, and the reason that bastard is hunting me." He shrugged at the rest of the group's stares. "What, you thought he was hunting me for sport or because the tattoos are pretty? He wants them because it's of lyrium, runes embedded in my flesh...a small fortune." He turned his head, spitting at the ground, his voice low. "Probably out of pride too..."

"No wonder you hate mages then-" Garrett muttered, eyeing the tattoos with a new-found respect.

"It's no excuse." Anders growled low, shooting Fenris a glare, apparently set on disliking the elf more than even Garrett did.

-but you should have told us." Garrett continued.

"I should have, I apologise, though I'm sure you'll come to appreciate having such abilities at your disposal." Fenris calmly replied, unfazed by Anders glare.

"And what's with the Qun speak...?" Carver spoke, finally remembering to stop staring at the Qunari heart.

"I have on occasion met Qunari." The elf shrugged. "You are from Ferelden, aren't you? Qunari are more common here."

Garrett arched an eyebrow, sensing there was more to it. "If you say so, by the way...what does Tal Vashoth _mean_?"

Fenris calmly looked back. "True grey, they have renounced the Qun, they are...lost, or so the Qunari sees it. In the Qun you are seen as having chosen your lot in life before you are even born, when a Qunari throws this away, chooses another path, he is Grey, an abnormality to be purged."

"So choosing to be anything but what you're _told_ to be is wrong?" Carver grunted. "What a nice religion...these Qunari are weird beasts."

"They do not see it as a religion, but as _facts_." Fenris rebuked the human, shrugging. "And the Qunari is a _society_, not a species, though most see the Qunari as these Kossith that dominate the Qunari ranks."

"You seem to know a lot about these Qunari..." Garrett noted, pleased that his curiosity had been sated as well as having made Fenris reveal he knew more than he was letting on.

The elf calmly looked back though, not disturbed by Garrett's questioning tone, his own levelled. "Yes, I do."

"Well..." Garrett shrugged and looked away, realising he was entering dangerous territory and knowing there was no time nor need for it. "...we should move on, the Tal Vashot will change their guards in one hour, I want to be ready to ambush them before that."

With that, he descended into the cave, and the darkness within...

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for taking so much time out of her schedule._


	21. Chapter 21

The cave was clearly an old mine.

If the broken rails running along the main paths wasn't enough of a sign, the pickaxes strewn about, some still embedded in the stone, were. Garrett doubted it was the Tal Vashoth that had run the miners out though, the handles to the pickaxes were mouldy, if they even remained, and the air had a lingering scent of age about it, despite the new occupants.

Having used side-passages and with Maric quietly scouting ahead, the group had been like shadows, fleeting from one hiding place to the other. In their wake they had left the odd Tal Vashoth in the dust, Isabela and Varric having been instrumental in silently taking care of those who could otherwise have raised the alarm.

Which Garrett was exceedingly thankful for now that they had arrived at the main camp of the Tal Vashoth._ Fighting them head on if they had been ready would be suicidal, with surprise however, it's a different matter, just like with the Templars at the Chantry_. From his vantage point at the end of a tunnel that gave a good view of the large chamber ahead, Garrett eyed the situation critically.

Below, there was another tunnel leading into the chamber, the one you had to take to enter it, since the one Garrett knelt in ended with a twelve feet drop. Near the tunnel two Tal Vashoth sat on a rock each, a barrel between them that they were using as a table as they played cards, low murmurs escaping them as they revealed their hands. As with all Tal Vashoth, and Qunari in general, they were bare chested, though Garrett wasn't underestimating them, the spears resting next to the two players were long and sported serrated blades, making them look more like cruel glaives than pure spears, and there was no question that the Tal Vashoth knew how to use them.

In fact, most of them seemed to carry those spears as their weapon of choice. Over at the far right of the cave, a full six spears rested against the cave wall, three of the owners busy forming a circle around and watching another two wrestling, the two combatants using leverage and various grips to fell one another over and over again. The sixth owner stood to the side of them, a thoughtful look in his eyes as he watched the struggle while sipping on the content in a large tin cup.

At the other end, four more of the Tal Vashoth stood in a line, their larger spears thrust into the ground next to them as they used smaller spears for target practice on a few crudely painted targets. Even as Garrett watched, one of them struck the dead centre of his, splitting the old wood in two with a crack. Garrett grimaced, to the giant Tal Vashoth the spear might be a javelin to throw, but for a smaller human such a large projectile was a horrifying prospect, something you'd expect from a ballistae, not a hurled by an individual. _Better keep my shield up when facing them_.

At the far end of the cave, atop a platform, it was easy to see who was the leader. The Tal Vashoth sitting on the chest with a overturned table acting as a backrest was not only sporting several gold necklaces, no doubt stolen from some killed trader, but also had a large claymore resting against his knee, as if his 'throne' wasn't a big enough sign of his status._ Almost looks like the Arishok, sitting at the raised dais like that, maybe he fancies himself as something similar_.

At the feet of the platform an additional two Tal Vashoth were sitting in the dirt, a small pile of copper coins between them that they seemed intent on arguing over. What really drew Garrett's attention though, was the Tal Vashoth standing at the right side of the leader. The beast was unlike the others, his muscled frame was supporting a large collar of bronze that rose up to his chin, his eyes hidden by a mask and bronze chains hung from him, disgustingly attached to his skin, the skin where flesh met bronze puckered and sickly-looking.

"He's a mage." Anders muttered, the man kneeling down next to Garrett and Aveline, something within his eyes coming alight, a small fire within them. "Look at what they've done to him, Qunari are just as bad as the Chantry, if not worse..."

Garrett glanced up at Bethany, exchanging a worried look, then grimaced as Fenris at the back muttered. "Control over something dangerous should never be scorned."

Anders glared back, ready to snap back, but Garrett was quicker. "Anders, we can't help him, in fact, I'm sure that the moment he becomes aware of us, he'll attack with the intent to kill, we can't show mercy." Garrett shot the still monster a worried look. "He can't...sense you, can he?"

"No, I know, they've turned him into a tool of war..." Anders growled, eyes flashing as he narrowed them at the Tal Vashoth mage, his voice hoarse. "...death will be a mercy for him." A shake of his head, and he blinked. "What? No, no he can't sense neither me nor Bethany, his training seems...rudimentary at best, I feel...control...control and raw force." Again, Anders' eyes flashed. "They've turned him into a hobbled artillery piece, nothing but a tool that's viewed as so volatile that even he _himself_ fears he'll 'break at any moment."

"Good, a sensible precaution." Fenris calmly noted.

Anders spun to glare at him, and when Garrett moved to grab the mage's shoulder and turn him back at the task at hand, he spotted Bethany inching away from the elf in fear. He shot Fenris an irritated glare, all the more so due to how unashamed Fenris seemed to be about voicing such an opinion in his current company._ No, focus on what's important_. Turning back to Anders, he whispered. "Ignore him, he's a spiteful one, now, I need you to understand that that mage might be in pain and enslaved, but still dangerous, I don't want you to hold back, because he's probably the most dangerous one of them, we need to take him out quickly."

"I understand." Was Anders dull reply, the mage offering a short nod, eyes fixed on the Tal Vashoth.

"Good, because we only get one chance." Garrett turned where he sat, gesturing at the others to come close. "Okay, this is what we'll do..."

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In the shadows of the lower passage, Garrett waited, feeling nervous. Yes, the Tal Vashoth weren't ready for an attack, but they were more numerous, bigger and not to mentione trained soldiers. Yes, Garrett figured they had the advantage in magic, surprise and tactical disposition, but he had seen too many of his plans crumble as of late to find any calm in it. And now he himself didn't even have control, he was just waiting, waiting for the signal.

Next to him, Maric sat on his haunches, the Mabari silent, eyes almost glowing as he looked ahead, ready to do his part. Behind him Carver knelt, then Aveline and Fenris, followed by Isabela in the rear. They were all waiting with baited breath, waiting for Anders, Varric and Bethany to give the word.

_You have good fighters at your back, good support from magic and Varric's crossbow, the Tal Vashoth are relaxing, we do it hard and fast like before_. Garrett nodded at his own thoughts, calming a little. _It's doable_.

Around him, there were scrapes of feet against the ground, creaking of armour and a low sound of breathing, as if they all breathed as one as they awaited the imminent battle.

Silence.

_Why is it taking so_-

With a roar, a fireball shot forth from the tunnel above theirs, hurtling straight for the Tal Vashoth leader and his entourage.

The Tal Vashoth mage reacted quickly though, stepping forward his hands shot up...and the blast enveloped nothing but a large bubble of shimmering energy surrounding him and the three others upon the dais.

_Dammit_. "Now!" Garrett shouted the unnecessary order even as he jerked to his feet and ran forward, though Maric swiftly outstripped him as the Mabari charged forth with the power only a mounted knight could match.

Right past the closest two Tal Vashoth, making them look after him in shock as the Mabari hurtled for those practising with their javelins, bowling the nearest one over with a victorious growl, teeth and claws raking his target. The two Tal Vashoth he passed hesitated, then turned towards the others coming after the Maric.

The eyes of the closest of them widened in shock and pain as Garrett drove his sword deep into his chest, a low grunt escaping him as he tried to speak...and then Garrett knocked him onto his back, freeing his sword in the process.

In the background he saw the Tal Vashoth mage flinch as Bianca thumped a bolt into his chest, the strange shield around him and his leader shifting. Then a beam of whiteness shot forth, slamming through the shield of energy and striking the mage's right arm, freezing it solid and drawing a low growl out of the creature...a growl turning into a muted shriek as a second bolt struck the arm, shattering it.

Garrett forced himself to focus on his second target though. Rushing onwards to the next Tal Vashoth, Garrett was surprised by the speed with which the large beast pulled forth his spear. With no time to waste, Garrett thrust his sword forward...

Whiteness filled his vision.

Gasping, Garrett found himself tasting gravel, his jaw aching from a blow even as he rolled onto his back, seeing the Tal Vashoth standing above him with a spinning spear, the dull end stained by Garrett's blood.

Taking up a defensive posture, the Tal Vashoth prepared for the onslaught of the others, only for Aveline to run right past him, the woman running for Maric as the Mabari with a growl was kicked off his mauled target by one of the javelin throwers, two javelins flew at Aveline, only for one to miss her by a hair as the other bounced off her shield with a resounding thump.

A roar...and Carver leapt over Garret, sword coming down at the Tal Vashoth raising his spear to parry...only for the beast to step to his left and release the spear with his left hand and grab Carver by the neck before hurling him over Garret with an irritated snort.

Then Fenris was there, the elf rushing into the Tal Vashoth, his hammer slamming against the parrying spear, then surprisingly holding fast as the elf somehow managed to stay on his feet as the much larger beast and he locked their weapons against one another and began to push...

"_Men_!" Garrett blinked at the sight of Isabela's thighs above him, dimly surprised to find her wearing _underwear_, then she ducked low as she ran past the struggling pair...and cleanly slit open the ankles of the Tal Vashoth as she rushed onwards, making the beast roar in pain and fall onto his back. The next moment something that almost seemed to be an amused snort escaped Fenris as the elf brought his hammer down into the screaming mouth of his foe with a loud crunch.

Rolling onto his feet, Garrett took stock of the situation.

At the far right the six Tal Vashoth had gotten hold of their spears, but their counter-charge had floundered as Bethany and Anders did as instructed, targeting the cluster with their fireballs when the Tal Vashoth mage was disabled. The twin explosions made a whooshing sound as hot air brushed Garrett's face, but only one Tal Vashoth fell, the others simply growled in anger, despite the smouldering edges where the explosions had torn their skin off. The blasts _did_ blind them though, despite them all having looked away at the last instance, as such they didn't even see Fenris and Isabela as the two came flying at them with enviable speed.

The leader of the Tal Vashoth and his two guards were confidently moving down at the battlefield though, the large leader apparently unharmed. _Why isn't Varric shooting him_! The answer came with a thud, making Garrett spot the Tal Vashoth mage struggling to move, to cast his spells with his remaining hand, his chest riddled with crossbow bolts. _Oh_..._that's_ _impressive_. Even as Garrett watched, another bolt struck the beastly mage, making him stumble back and drop onto his leader's 'throne'.

At the far left the Tal Vashoth mauled by Maric was crawling away while clutching at his face, though his struggles were fading by every passing moment. The Mabari himself and Aveline were struggling though, the only thing keeping them alive being Aveline's quick shield as again and again she deflected fearsome thrusts at her and the dog as the three remaining Tal Vashoth slowly fanned around their two foes.

"Carver!" Garrett shouted the name even as he ran forth, feeling rather than seeing his brother at his side as he leapt to Aveline's aid.

With a crash, he slammed into the rightmost Tal Vashoth, his shield knocking the spear of his foe sideways when it struck the arm holding it. The large foe tried to turn away from Garrett's following slash, but growled in pain as it cut his back open and fell upon one knee. Howling in frustration, the Tal Vashoth spun where he knelt, thrusting his spear up at Garrett's face, only to miss as Garrett's shield moved from left to right to push the weapon aside, then down in a brutal backhand, knocking the beast down on all fours.

A grunt, and Garrett slammed his blade into the exposed back of his foe, his attention already on the others.

Carver came at the leftmost Tal Vashoth, but jumped even further to the left at the last instance as the Tal Vashoth directed his spear at the charging man. Dancing away, Carver smirked...and then the Tal Vashoth gasped and fell onto his knees as Aveline's quick blade darted into his back and through his chest.

The last Tal Vashoth was trying to retreat, but Carver was too close and it thrust out at him in desperation, only to find the spear swiped aside as the still moving Carver stepped within his foe's guard, his blade a silver trail as it whirled over Carver's head before descending once more, cutting the beast's head off with a dull crack.

At the other end of the cave, Fenris and Isabela were involved in what almost looked like an intricate dance of death and blood, the elf surprisingly matching Isabela's swiftness with his much heavier hammer. Two Tal Vashoth were already dead there, and two more now fell, one with his head caved in, the other gutted. The two remaining Tal Vashoth were backing away, spears held before them in defensive postures, as the much smaller human and elf slowly advanced on them, the role of predator and prey reversed.

And nearly upon them, the leader of the Qunari rebels leapt forth.

Only for Maric to bark as the dog leapt to meet the enemy charge, the Mabari swiping his foe's claymore aside with a bloodied paw as he went for the jugular.

The teeth snapped shut an inch short though, the Tal Vashoth's other hand having caught the Mabari by the throat in the last instance, his eyes coldly regarding the dog, voice low. "Saar..." He tossed the dog aside, sending Maric flying and drawing a pained yelp from him when he struck the cave wall.

Garrett growled and charged, Aveline at his right, Carver at his left.

Carver was, eager and young as he was, the first to reach his target, one of the leader's guards. He swung, but found his blade parried and deflected to his left by a raised spear whose jagged tip swiped at him in turn, only to miss as well as Carved ducked beneath it. Then the tip moved back in another swipe, this time low and long, catching Carver in the leg and tripping him onto his back.

_No_! Garrett thrust out at the leader of the Tal Vashoth, his arm momentarily going numb by the force of his foe's parry. His attention was on the leftmost guard though, who he struck with his shield before the Tal Vashoth could attack his brother...a loud crack and his foe stumbled backwards, his jaw bloodied.

Aveline had also charged into a guard, but her charge had floundered when he suddenly flung his spear at her, sending her tumbling to the ground with her blood running freely as the large spear lodged itself into her shoulder.

_No_!

Shouting out in frustration, Garrett ducked under the whooshing slash of the Tal Vashoth leader's claymore as he darted to the right, his shield smacking a surprised-looking Tal Vashoth in the face before the monster could reach for another weapon, which was swiftly followed by a thrusting sword going deep into his gut.

Spinning clockwise, Garrett's sword swung in a wide arc, striking the Tal Vashoth leader's sword with a flash of sparks as he deflected the enemy attack. His shield followed, swinging as wildly as his sword, making the beast jump back to avoid being hit.

_No_!

Another shout, this time almost sounding like a roar, escaped him...and he hurled himself at the second guard. The Tal Vashoth had recovered from the blow to his jaw and was now trying to press his advantage on Garrett's brother, his spear having drawn blood from Carver's legs as Garrett's brother was unable to protect them properly while on his back. At the sound of Garrett approaching though, he flinched.

It was all Garrett needed. Growling he slammed the spear of his foe aside with his shield, thrust at his foe's gut with his sword, only to have the blade miss by a hair as the beast turned away from the blow. The next moment Garrett was right in his foe's face...and head-butted him.

Grunting in surprise, the beast stumbled back...and then cried out as Carver thrust his blade up between the beast's legs. The cry was short-lived though, turning into a gurgle as Garrett's blade punched into his throat.

_You will not harm them_! Garrett spun round, knowing the leader was coming at him. _None of them_! He swung-

-and his blade was sent flying as the leader of the rebels parried the swing before kicking Garrett's hand open with a steel-tipped boot. The beast grinned-

And then stumbled back as Garrett punched his shield into the beast's throat. The claymore slashed at Garrett's face-

-only to hit air as Garrett leant backwards before coming back for another swipe with his shield, this time striking the side of the beast's face, dazing him. Drawing his dagger with his free hand, Garrett shot another shield-aided punch at it, but missed as the Tal Vashoth stumbled back and swung a backhand slash at him-

-which struck Garrett's steel breastplate with a resounding clang as he stepped close and yet again slammed his shield into his foe's face, and again, and _again_... Garrett hissed, feeling the blade slide down until it found skin instead of steel, slashing at it. But the pain only fuelled him, made him _angrier_.

_You won't hurt them_!

He took one step back and spun, his shield coming down from high, smashing the raised claymore down...and then his dagger followed in its path, Garrett roared as he swung...and punched the blade through the Tal Vashoth's forehead with a loud crunch.

The beast fell to its knees, a look of shock in his eyes...and then dropped onto his side.

Garrett too stared in shock, down at his foe, then, down at himself, finding large quantities of dark blood pouring down his right side. _Is all that my_-

He dropped onto his knees, the surge of adrenaline fading, replaced by a drained feeling, a _coldness_.

"Garrett!" He wasn't sure who shouted the name, nor if he was supposed to react, all he saw was the sand rushing at him...

Darkness.

Silence.

Then light.

Blinking, Garrett sat up straight, confused. "Huh?"

The first thing he saw was his sister leaning on one knee next to him, grinning wide, though her face was paler than usual. Next to her, Anders was also kneeling, a green mist coiling around his hands like a living thing, before slowly seeping into his flesh. His hoarse voice was calm, and a little amused. "There we go, nothing too bad, just a lot of _blood_, drink much water the next few hours, okay?"

Garrett nodded mutely, still a bit surprised, not entirely sure what had happened. Bethany seemed equally puzzled. "Brother...you were _crazy_...I mean a _good_ crazy...but still crazy."

"There _is_ no _good_ crazy..." Garrett muttered and reached up, glad Bethany didn't comment about the fact that he needed help from her to get to his feet. _Eugh, my knees feel like they're made out of water_... "How is everyone?"

The question was unnecessary, he could clearly see it.

Varric and Isabela were unharmed, the two rogues exchanging chuckles as they went over the battle in low voices.

Aveline was sitting up, nursing her shoulder, now spear-free. She had an incredulous look on her face as she eyed the now non-injury, a look she at times shot Anders. Clearly she hadn't expected such good results. Carver was also sitting up, gritting his teeth as Anders performed his magic on the boy's bloodied, but not too badly damaged, legs.

Further off, Fenris stood, the elf gripping his left upper arm with his hand, having received some minor but painful scrape. The fact that he was stoically ignoring Anders' work though suggested that he was not in _enough_ pain to ask for healing. _Idiot_. Ignoring him, Garrett let his worried gaze sweep over to where Maric had been thrown, only to find the place devoid of any dog.

A small woof, and Garrett found Maric sitting on his haunches in front of him, fur sporting lumps of blood and dirt, but the dog's eyes didn't speak of pain. Bethany answered the unasked question. "I did some healing too...kind of proud of it."

"Thank you." Garrett rubbed her shoulder, feeling oddly distant from it all as he looked over the battlefield, of the dead foes littering the floor, well aware of how close he had been to becoming one of them himself, or worse yet, have Carver or Aveline be one of them, of how risky the enterprise had been._ Javaris better be good for the gold or I swear he'll pay for it_...

He shook off the melancholy, finding his sister eyeing him with a curious look on her face, only to look away when he noticed her.

"Right." He released her shoulder, forcing his watery legs to move. "Gather up the loot, Fenris, you have first choice as agreed, but let's keep this quick, I don't want to be stuck here until nightfall, there are more bandits than the Tal Vashoth out there after all."

_Plus, I have an appointment_...

8

8

8

"There you are, what took you so long?" Javaris asked, frowning in irritation.

Garrett felt something in his back stiffen at the question, he had been prepared for Javaris to be rude, the dwarf was nothing if not solely focused on his money, which Garrett was as well to be fair, but he had more tact about it. Tact he had already decided not to use with the merchant. "It took a while sawing off the head of the Tal Vashoth leader." He held up the bag, the blood from the cut had begun to seep through the rough cloth, drawing many stares from people around them as it stained the dusty ground, luckily, the docks were one of the places where you didn't ask questions. "He had a thick neck."

"Ah." Javaris eyes bulged at the sight, despite it having been he himself who had asked for that particular bit of proof. "Yes...I see, well..." He cleared his throat, tugged his tunic straight and raised his chin as he started to cross the road towards the Qunari compound. "...let's get this started then, money and wealth, here I come."

Following, Garrett frowned. He had considered that he might be dragged along with Javaris to the Qunari, but that didn't mean he had to like it, he remembered the beast in Lothering all too well. But with that in mind he had sent his siblings away, there was only need for one of them to enter the lion's den, after all. As such it was only him with Javaris, even Varric was gone, dragged off by a surprisingly eager, even for her, Isabela towards the Hanged Man. "I don't recall me escorting you into the compound as part of our deal, I want my payment, Javaris."

"And you'll _get_ it in a moment." The dwarf replied, offering Garrett a calming gesture that did nothing to remove Garrett's frown as the two walked up to the gate. "You there, _guard_, open the gate, I have business with the Arishok."

The sole Qunari stationed outside the compound looked down at Javaris. As with most, there was a frightening calm about him, as if nothing could rock his stony demeanour, yet despite that Garrett sensed a hint of...mockery in the eyes of the beast. There was a long pause, making Javaris shift uneasily where he stood."You may enter." The Qunari finally spoke, his words slow, unhurried, showing who was in charge.

Someone had to have heard his words, for a moment later the gates swung open.

Snorting, his chin held high, Javaris strode on. Garrett however, paused to look at the Qunari guard, who steadily met his gaze. _Oh well, better get this over with._ Shrugging with a sigh, Garrett moved on, following Javaris into a place that Garrett would _not_ tell his mother he had been in.

The compound was surprisingly clean, spotless save for the fact that the ground was made of dirt, and the difference from the rest of the dock area was so startling Garrett found himself blinking. _Huh, if the rest of the docks looked like this, it would almost be pleasant being there_... Banners hung from the walls though, and while the dark brown cloth made the place more pleasing to the eye, it was also a sharp reminder that every Qunari there was a soldier, of the _danger_ Garrett was in.

He could hear and smell them working in the distance, off in various buildings flanking the street, the sound of Qunari blacksmithing and the spicy smell of cooking was reaching him. Yet quite a few Qunari were on the street as well, at even distances they stood, spears resting on the ground and heads held high as they stood guard, eyes never leaving Garrett and Javaris, making Garrett feel small even before they approached the Arishok.

At the end of the street, atop a small flight of stairs, the Arishok somehow made what was really a park bench without a backrest look like a throne. Leaning one elbow on his leg and his chin on his fist, the Qunari eyed the human and dwarf approaching with little interest. Garrett found something within him quiver under that gaze, there was a cold fire within it, a great calm, matched by an equally strong ferocity, all held in place by something Garrett couldn't comprehend.

It didn't help that the Arishok was the largest one of his specimen Garrett had ever seen, his bare chest looked like it had been carved out of stone by a sculptor that had been overly generous on the proportions of his target. Yet the Arishok was _very_ real, and Garrett had no doubt that the man could crush a man's skull with just one of his massive hands. Even his _horns_ were bigger than the others', intricately curled, like massive vines of some plant that had turned into stone.

Surprisingly, Javaris seemed less intimidated by the sight than Garrett – perhaps he was just too arrogant to sense the danger, or perhaps it was because as a dwarf he was used to being towered above – but whatever the reason, his voice was eager when he spoke. "Greetings again, Arishok!"

He was met by stony silence, the Arishok cocking his head to the side as he looked down at Javaris as one would a bug.

The dwarf cleared his throat. "Yes, well, I'm here to tell you that my hireling did his job, the Tal Vashoth were felled, one and all." He glanced back at Garrett and nodded at his bag. "Show him."

Sighing, Garrett turned the bag over, letting the large head of the Tal Vashoth's leader drop to the ground with a dull thump.

To his surprise, there was no reaction from the Qunari around them, the guards simply looked on, unfazed. The Arishok made a pause though, eyeing the head with a hint of interest before looking up at Garrett and offering a small nod. "Impressive, I did not believe anyone in this miserable city capable of such a feat." His voice had a low timbre, as steady and powerful as the rest of his demeanour.

Unsure what to do, Garrett tilted his head forward in a curt nod, but remained silent. _This is Javaris' show, I'll let him wrap this up, take my gold and go_..._at least the Arishok doesn't seem to be the mindless beast like the one in Lothering_.

"Yes, very impressive." Javaris agreed with an eager wave of his hand, wanting to get things onwards. "Which means we can discuss the matter of trading in the explosive powder."

The Arishok slowly turned his gaze from Garrett over to Javaris, then shook his head. "No."

"I...what?" Garrett arched an eyebrow even as Javaris' words reached him, the dwarf took a step forward. "B-but you have to...Garrett! Say something!" The last words were hissed through clenched teeth.

Eyeing the incensed-looking Javaris with an unamused impression, Garrett replied. "I was hired by you to kill the Tal Vashoth, not to strike deals for you."

"Come on, just...try something!" Javaris hissed, refusing to let it go.

Garrett sighed. _Well, if it'll get us away sooner_... He turned back to the Arishok, keeping his tone civil. "The Qunari do not honour their deals?"

"There _is_ no deal." The Arishok snorted, his eyes on Garrett, making the man struggle not to look away. "We denied the dwarf the Gaatlok, then he invented himself a task to prove himself worthy of trade we would never make, a task he then made _you_ do. And even if he _had_ done the task himself, there would never have been a deal." The Arishok shook his head, gaze never leaving Garrett.

Garrett nodded. _Sounds straightforward, actually_. Turning his head, he looked down at Javaris with a shrug. "Well there you go, you can't force them to sell something if they don't want to."

"But that makes no sense." Javaris blinked, apparently having difficulty wrapping his head around something like that. _Merchants_... "It's a _product_, they _have_ to sell."

"It's a tool of the Qunari." The Arishok interrupted, tone sharper than before, though his eyes were as calm as ever. "A _means_ to an _end_." Now, the Qunari snorted, a hint of disdain in his eyes as they looked down at Javaris. "Not to be squandered on foolish basra, who will only receive the gatlook in the _traditional_ matter."

"But...but...but..." Javaris stuttered, flabbergasted, making Garrett sigh. "You can't just _not_ sell..."

The Arishok's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, making Garrett put a hand on Javaris' shoulder. "Ser, I would advice you to let this drop now, you are not going to get any further by arguing."

"The human speaks truth, _leave_." The Arishok leant back, already looking away, done with them.

"Well...damn!" Javaris grumbled, kicking at the ground.

"These things happen." Garrett tried to soothe him, despite not feeling any sympathy. "Now, my payment." He thrust his hand out.

Which the dwarf slapped aside. "What? Didn't you _hear_? There is _no_ deal."

Now it was Garrett's turn to narrow his eyes. "You may not have had a deal with the Qunari, but you _did_ have a deal with _me_, dwarf."

"No, no." The dwarf shook his head, glaring at Garrett in irritation. "No money is being exchanged today, because _nothing_ was accomplished."

"That's not how it works." Garrett growled, stepping closer. "You might have invented your deal with the Arishok, but I have _papers_ on our deal, and they _explicitly_ says you're to pay me for the slaying of the Tal Vashoth, _not_ for you to pay me when the Qunari sell you their powder. So you _will_ pay me."

"Or what?" The dwarf snorted. "You're going to complain to the Viscount's office? As if someone in _your_ position could even get noticed, besides, I have half the people there owing me money or favours, you really think you're going to get anywhere with your _paper_?" He crossed his arms over his chest, unimpressed.

Garrett felt a flutter of panic in his chest. _Maker, what if he's right_..._it doesn't look like he's __bluffing_. Feeling his face warm, Garrett forced himself to stand straight though, to glare harder at the dwarf. "If you think you'll get away with not paying me, you have another thing coming, I _always_ get my job done, and I'm _always_ paid, one way or the other you _will_ pay me." At the corner of his vision, something moved.

The dwarf growled. "You think I'm going to let you bully me into paying you? I have friends you _don't_ want to-" The movement in the corner of Garrett's vision finally drew both him and Javaris' attention, interrupting the dwarf as they both looked over at the Arishok.

The Qunari had risen to his feet, his eyes as calm as ever, but there was heat in his words as he focused them on the dwarf. "You would deny the victor over the Tal Vashoth what you have promised? You accuse the Qunari of breaking our deal with you, then go ahead and break the one you yourself made?" The Arishok's eyes narrowed. "Qunari do not make 'deals', but we act with honour, and while you are in _my_ domain, you _will_ act with it as well."

"I...what?" Javaris took a step back, confused.

The Arishok took a step down from his throne, and Garrett felt rather than saw the other Qunari inch forward, the threat obvious. "This human did something you could not for you with a promise of gold, now you withhold the promised reward?" The Arishok snorted. "Gold is a poor replacement for doing what you're _meant_ to do, but what can one expect of a sick society such as yours? That said, you _will_ behave with a modicum of respect towards your betters when within these walls, and you _will_ give him what has been promised."

"I...what are you saying...?" Javaris swallowed, his confidence evaporating.

Garrett held back a grin, sensing it wouldn't help him in keeping the Arishok on his side. "I believe he says you should pay me, or die where you stand."

"You can't do that!" Javaris protested, the pitch in his voice rising. "I'm a citizen of Kirkwall! An influential-"

"I do not care about your influence." The Arishok snapped. "And if you think claiming legal protection from a society sick because of people like _you_ corrupting it will help, you are mistaken." He took another step forward, and despite still being far away from Javaris, it felt like he stood right before them. "Within these walls, dwarf, the_ Qun_ word is _law_. And the Qun says you will _honour_ your promises."

"I...I..." Javaris' gaze moved from the Arishok to Garrett, then to the Qunari guards, who had barely moved more than enough to make the implied threat a reality, that the Qunari wouldn't hesitate to put him to the sword. "..._fine_!" Grumbling loudly, the dwarf reached down and tossed a purse in his belt to Garrett and made to stride off...only for Garrett to step in his path. "What!"

Not replying, Garrett opened the purse and counted the coins, his heart fluttering with glee as he saw the amount of gold before him. _Twenty_ _sovereigns_... He struggled not to grin. "Nothing, ser, carry on." Garrett stepped aside, letting the grumbling dwarf move on, much to Garrett's amusement._ Twenty, I have twenty sovereigns, twenty more for the expedition, to get rich_...

Silence.

Then Garrett remembered himself and tied the purse up before turning to face the Arishok with a respectful bow. "I thank you, Arishok."

"And I you, for your service to the Qunari." Was the response, though it was hardly impassioned as the Arishok had already turned around and started walking towards his throne. "Now go, we are done here."

"Agreed." Garrett offered a final nod to the Qunari, then walked away, struggling not to hurry or to reveal how happy he was as he took his respectful leave.

_I have twenty sovereigns_!

8

8

8

_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for finding the time to help._


	22. Chapter 22

_You know, the countryside outside Kirkwall isn't too bad_...

Carver eyed the terrain with more curiosity than he had any right to. Despite having been in Kirkwall for a year there had been little time to enjoy the scenery outside. Sure, they went outdoors at times, but that was usually with a job in mind, or for chopping wood; they always went out with something to _do_, which distracted them from the surroundings.

This was true this time too, but they had walked for long enough for Carver to relax a bit, to lower his guard, knowing his brother would lead them right. _If he knows where the Dalish __are__, that is_... Carver smirked, it might be a bit dull to just walk around, but the idea of his brother getting them lost and for once not accomplishing his task was amusing.

Sure, the Wounded Coast was a beautiful place, all those sandy beaches and the crystal clear water...yet Carver found himself preferring the Sundermount forest. Here and there jagged cliffs shot up from the ground, as if the distant mountain had roots like any tree, trying to burst free. The trees around them were large, wiry and dark, as if trying to hide under the shadow of Sundermount. With such large trees, between which various ivies and shrubbery grew, there were only patches of grass, but where it grew it was a dark green, the blades longer and sharper than those in Ferelden.

It had a wild, untamed beauty...and Carver _liked_ it.

To his left, Fenris was walking. The elf had actually volunteered to go with them without payment, which was the only reason Garrett had allowed it. Fenris hadn't really been forward about why he wanted to come, but it seemed he was _curious_ about the Dalish...though pessimistic about finding anything worthwhile with them. _Odd_ _guy_... Carver shot the elf a curious look, his eyes straying to the silvery tattoos. _Scary_ _too_..._glad_ _he's_ _on_ _our_ _side_.

At the rear, Bethany and Anders walked, and it made Carver grimace just thinking about it. He agreed with Garrett, the possessed mage was _not_ a good influence on their sister, if Carver could have it his way, she wouldn't even _have_ magic, and to be near something like Anders. Carver feared whatever he might teach her would be dangerous. Anders himself hadn't come because she asked though, but rather had volunteered, like Fenris, curious, but rather about the idea of the Dalish mages being free, he had mentioned he already knew some of it from another source, but the man was like Garrett, always thirsty for more _details_, for _knowledge_.

_Not to mention for more, 'oh we're going to set the mages free' talk_..._man, I hate him_. Carver shot Anders a glare, though the mage didn't notice, busy as he was showing Bethany some weed while speaking in an annoyingly lecturing tone.

Up ahead, as usual, Garrett walked, closely accompanied by Varric, the dwarf apparently trying to cheer Garrett up, but to little avail. "Oh look, another rock, sort of looks like my brother..."

"Yes, I get it, we've been walking for ages without seeing the Dalish." Garrett snapped back, though he didn't look at Varric, his head instead turning left and right, as if he would spot the elusive elves at any moment._ Tense, are we_? Carver wouldn't call himself observant, but he and Bethany had both noticed, and talked about Garrett's behaviour around elves, as of late it had been very...terse, impolite even. It was a strange shift, since he had never been like that back in Ferelden, and considering they had to deal with elves so often and that he was usually diplomatic, a bit worrying...

"Relax, Hawke, they'll show themselves eventually. Besides, with all the gold you collected from Javaris, we're ahead of schedule." Varric pointed out, smirking up at the human.

"True." Garrett admitted, his shoulders dropping slightly at the thought of the wealth, making Carver grumble. He hadn't seen a _copper_ of those twenty sovereigns, they had all been stored away in a chest under the floorboard, a chest mother refused to leave out of sight. _I'm not Gamlen, dammit, and would it __kill__ us if I had a copper for ale now and again_? _Yes, we're saving up for a 'life'_..._but what about living it now as well_? He shot Garrett's back a glare. _Like a damn dragon, hoarding the wealth, happier to have it rather than to use it for what it's meant to be used for_...

Fenris interrupted his grumbling. "These Dalish, I've run into a few bands of them before, will be curious to see if this group is any different."

"Oh?" Carver gladly turned his attention to the elf. "You don't sound as if those former meetings were any fun."

Fenris scoffed, a hint of a smile in the corner of his lips. "They were set on _educating_ this poor flat ear about what it means to be a free and proud elf...as if being an elf has anything to do with freedom _or_ pride." He shook his head. "Freedom...bah, as if hiding in the muck, living off berries and dreaming of how things once were is the same as freedom. They're stubborn savages, focused on the past and unwilling to move forward, to make their own future." A snort escaped him.

Carver looked away, nodding pensively in agreement. _To make your own future_..._yeah_..._wouldn't that be grand_?

Garrett, however, interrupted his thought before he could take it any further. "I trust, Fenris, that you won't speak like that in _front_ of the Dalish, we're here to make a delivery, not to fight." The man shot an irritated glance backwards.

"I've already done so." Fenris stoically replied, making Garrett arch an eyebrow. "They have been watching us for some time."

"What!" Carver wasn't sure if it was him or Garrett who shouted the question, perhaps both. What he _did_ know was that he suddenly had his sword in his hands and his ready brother next to him, standing with their backs against Bethany as a shield, despite not knowing which direction the elves were in. Both were glaring in irritation at Fenris, but it was Garrett who spoke first. "Why didn't you _say_ something!"

"No point, they'd melt away if we tried chasing them down." The elf shrugged at them. "They'll introduce themselves when they work up the gut."

Garrett opened his mouth to snap something back, but was interrupted by a new voice, a voice with a strange accent, slow and soft, the a's and e's longer than Carver was used to. "You are to go no further, shemlen."

Carver blinked at the sight of an elf appearing out of a bush, as if he'd been born out of the very roots. He wore a form-fitting suit of leather that had been coloured green in several areas, making the wearer look like part of the forest itself. He had a long dagger strapped to his belt, and was resting a hand on it as he glared at the group, the large elven eyes were a sharp green and narrowed, standing in stark contrast to the soft red tattoo covering his face. His eyes now darted to Fenris, narrowing even further in hostility. "Nor will we allow any smart-mouthed flat ear entry, go back to your filthy city, you shemlen slave."

"Ah, the Dalish, always so friendly..." Anders muttered, making Carver shoot him a glance, irritated at seeing the mage so calm even at the sight of eight more Dalish appearing, these sporting bows, with arrows on the strings...

"Knew that would get them to come forth." Fenris shot Garrett an arched eyebrow of superiority, then turned his gaze back to the Dalish elf, eyes narrowing. "And you, call me slave again and I'll rip your still beating heart out of your chest."

"He's not kidding." Carver muttered, watching the Dalish elf glare at Fenris, apparently unimpressed.

"If you think we will allow you to speak disrespectfully to one of the _people_ you have made a grave error." The Dalish replied, his friends gripping their bows harder, ready to draw and shoot at any moment.

"Ah yes, _respect_." Fenris snorted, his tattoos flashing blue, making all the Dalish take a step back in surprise. "You demand it even while you tell me I'm-"

"_Enough_!" Garrett boomed, making everyone present jump at the volume of the man's voice, their eyes going over to him as he eyed the leader of the Dalish. "Excuse my companion here, he will _not_ make any more problem, will you, Fenris?" The elf rolled his eyes at the question, but then nodded in agreement as the glow of his tattoos settled down. "That said, we are here to see your Keeper, we were sent by Flemeth, the witch of the wilds."

The eyes of the elves, already large, bulged to near comical size. "You..." The Dalish leader hesitated. "...were sent by Asha'bellanar?" He looked back at another of the Dalish, this one a women who offered a nod, her forehead creased in a frown, then he looked back to Garrett. "The Keeper said-" Again, he hesitated, gaze moving over the group ahead...then he straightened, raising his chin. "We have been expecting you, come with us."

With that, the elves swiftly turned and walked back into the under brush, forcing the group to follow or be left behind. Fenris snorted at the greenery. "Ah yes, try to pretend you knew all along that-"

Garrett put a hand on his shoulder as he passed, silencing the elf. "Be quiet."

Moving after his brother, Carver grinned at the way Fenris snorted at Garrett's back. _Another one not liking being told what to do_..._why don't I like you again_?

Then he was forced to turn his attention forward as the ground turned uneven, nearly tripping him over, ahead, the ground was getting even worse._ So the elves like to climb to their camp_..._great_.

8

8

8

_Finally_!

Grunting, Carver climbed over a thick root of a tree that had been split in two during some old thunderstorm, the blackened wood standing in stark contrast to the warm sun above, a sun that almost seemed _larger_ than before, since the Dalish camp lay atop a hillock close to the Sundermount mountain.

Carver was sweating and breathing heavily, the Dalish had picked what _had_ to be the hardest and most circumventing path to get to the camp. If it was out of a fear of the group knowing the location of the camp, or if just to be bothersome to the heavier armoured humans, Carver chose not to think about in fear of punching someone's teeth out.

_At least Garrett isn't happy either_. Carver shot his brother a pleased look. While his brother's armour wasn't exactly the heaviest out there, it had definitively been a weight on him, and the shield strapped to his back hadn't helped things. As such, Garrett was panting, face covered with a sheen of sweat. Though his gaze was attentive, _curious_. _What are you looking_..._oh_. Carver followed his brother's gaze, and blinked at the sight.

Carver had seen a few Dalish hunters back in Ferelden back when they had lived on the road. It had been at a distance, as the groups had been wary of one another, as such he was familiar with how they looked and the like, but he hadn't been prepared for the sight of a Dalish _camp_.

Great wagons built in sleek forms, each as large as a _house_, stood in a semi-circle at the base of the mountain. From each wagon, a large mast rose, some sort of brown banner wrapped tightly around them. _Bet Garrett could tell me what those are_... Carver shot his brother a glance, noting the way the man was struggling not to smile, the tell-tale tick at the back of his jaw giving it away. _Hope you know how to stow the curiosity, I don't want to listen to you questioning this Keeper person for hours_...

The wagons left wide gaps between them for people to walk between, as well as a large space in the centre, showing that it was a camp for living in, not a fortress. Not that it looked friendly, the new arrivals had already been noticed, and Carver felt dozens of elven eyes on him, eyes narrowing in hostility. It wasn't any one big reaction, but as the group moved forward he saw mothers firmly guide their children into the wagons, and anyone not doing that were eyeing the group while fingering whatever they had at hand, their daggers, axes and bows were all tools, but at the moment it was clear what the elves were ready to use them for.

An oppressive silence filled the camp as the group slowly walked into it.

Forcing himself to not nervously fidget, Carver looked to his brother. _I hope you know what you're doing_... Garrett looked steady though, eyes straight ahead and calmly walking forward, which meant he probably had things under control._ I guess the Dalish haven't killed us_..._yet_. Carver glanced left and right. Everywhere he was met by hard glares, defiant looks, as if they expected him to try and oppress them at any moment.

"And there's the Keeper." Fenris muttered, grimacing in disgust.

Looking ahead once more, Carver grimaced as well. The elderly elf before them sported grey hair tied in a bun, her eyes a pale green and a somewhat harsh-looking tattoo of gold over her face, standing in stark contrast to an otherwise soft, if somewhat worn, face. _She looks like she'd be someone's grandmother._.. What caused Carver to grimace though, was the staff she was leaning on. _Another mage, __great__, I'm so sick of magic in my life_...

And next to the Keeper, a goddess of beauty stood.

Carver blinked, startled by the sight.

Looking closer, which was impossible _not_ to, he realised the elf next to the Keeper wasn't a goddess, but the beauty part held up. Thin, even for an elf, the woman wore a form-fitting suit of thin mail, that sadly enough was covered by a loose dark green robe, opened at the sides and which didn't cover her arms or legs like that of the Keeper's. Her eyes were even larger than that of any elf Carver had ever seen, and while green like the rest of them, hers were softer, _gentler_. Her wispy dark hair was tied up in several small braids pulled back from a finely chiselled face sporting a dark tattoo of vines along her cheekbones and what almost resembled antlers over her forehead.

Her gaze was dancing between the people of the group, the large eyes clearly transmitting a mixture of nervousness and curiosity. _Maker, you're cute, no, beautiful_... Carver felt his heart thump hard within his chest.

Next to him, Anders chuckled. "Carver...mouth."

With a click, Carver shut his mouth, then shot the smirking Anders, along with a Bethany struggling not to titter, a glare.

Grunting in irritation, Carver turned back to the scene ahead, gaze once more drawn to the woman at the Keeper's side, this time noticing the staff she carried in her hand. _Okay, so magic_..._errr_..._I guess I could_..._live with that in this case_. His gaze once more moved to the elf's face, his heart once more thumping hard. _Yes_, _definitely_.

Garrett, however, had only eyes for the Keeper, apparently set on getting his errand done so they could leave. _Probably wise with all the glares they're giving us but_..._well_... Carver took a deep breath, forcing himself to look away from the elf before she got nervous by the staring. ..._wouldn't hurt to stay a __bit__ longer_... "Keeper, I'm Garrett Hawke, I was sent here by...your people called her Asha'bellanar?"

Carver heard Bethany sigh at the question, he himself was torn between being irritated by Garrett's thirst for knowledge, and giddiness that it might mean they would stay a bit longer if he indulged himself. _Maybe I could chat up the beauty, I don't have much experience hitting on elves, and none with Dalish, but how hard can it be_? He eyed the woman once more, licking his lips. _Damn, was a long time since I was nervous at the idea of charming a girl_...

"Yes, or Flemeth, if you prefer." The old woman replied with a slow nod, the wrinkles around her eyes deepening as she leant forward on her staff looking into Garrett's eyes. "Andaran atish'an, I am Keeper Marethari, and _you_ look wiser beyond your years...as well as _older_, a strange thing to see in a human..."

_Wait, was that an insult or a compliment_? Carver blinked, momentarily tearing his gaze away from the goddess at the Keeper's side. Garrett ignored the words though, apparently set on staying on topic, to the mixed feelings of Carver. "I'm the one she sent, to give you this, and to perform any service to you you ask for regarding it." He handed the amulet in his hands to the Keeper, the polished bone shimmering in the sunlight.

The Keeper studied the amulet, her face inscrutable. "And one who keeps his word too...very strange one..." Carver stiffened in irritation at the implication, and felt his sister grip his hand, holding him back from doing anything foolish, his irritation only rising as he noticed how Garrett brushed off the insult with a derisive snort. "Also eager to get going? Are all your kind so...busy?" The Keeper finally looked up at Garrett, head cocked to the side.

"Only when the hospitality of their hosts stands in question." Garrett coldly replied, making Carver blink in surprise even as an amused chuckle escaped Fenris.

"Ah, yes, abelas..." The Keeper turned her gaze away, letting it sweep over the camp and all the staring elves, then raised her voice. "Hamin, Shemlen ena sahlin atisha."

A few elves grumbled, others snorted, but only when the Keeper wasn't looking at them. _All_, however, turned back to their duties. In fact they did so so decisively it was as if their guests were suddenly not there. _Great, so instead of glaring at us they're now ignoring us_..._guess it's a step up_.

"So, you are the one she entrusted with this task?" Marethari looked down at the amulet, a slight frown creasing her forehead. "Then I will do as she asked of me..." A reluctant sigh...and she looked up at Garrett, handing him back the amulet. "You will take this amulet with you to the top of Sundermount. There, Merrill here, my First, will perform a ritual of the departed." She gestured at beauty next to her. _Merrill_... Carver smiled at the name, earning him an elbow in the ribs from a snickering Bethany, making him reply with a glare.

The elf jumped at the mention of her name, looking startled at being noticed, a slight flush appearing on her cheeks. "Ah, eh...hello." She offered an uncertain wave of her hand, smiling at them as a flush appeared on her cheeks and nose. _Maker, you're cute_... Staring, Carver couldn't help but notice how the elf's initial smile disappeared as she looked back to Marethari, a look of worry drawing across her face.

"Then..." Marethari continued, glancing over at the other woman with a sigh before looking back to Garrett. "...I'd ask you to please escort her with you back to Kirkwall, as a favour to me." _Huh_? _Wait_..._yes_!

Merrill blinked, apparently not having expected the words, her mouth opening to say something, only to slowly close as Marethari shot her another glance, something sad in her eyes. "Thank you, Keeper..." Merrill whispered, she bowed, head kept low for a moment. "You're too kind."

"I am." Marethari replied, a hint of irritation in her voice, then another weary sigh escaping her as she looked back to Garrett. "Will you do this?"

"I promised Flemeth to perform your duty, I will do this." Garrett acknowledged with a nod of his head, then looked over at Merrill, looking somewhat puzzled. "As to your request...I see no reason why she couldn't accompany us to the city, it's where we're headed once we're done here. I'm however curious as to _why_...Kirkwall has nothing a Dalish would want, and even if there is...why not send her with an escort of your hunters? Pardon me for making assumptions, but I have trouble seeing Dalish trusting _humans_ with one of their own, particularly a, what did you call it, First? I assume this means apprentice?" He shot the two elves' staves a glance.

"It does mean apprentice, of a fashion, yes." Marethari inclined her head. "Good to see not all humans are too close-minded to see the Dalish as something but dangerous vagabonds, that we have a society." Fenris snorted at that, but the Keeper stoically ignored him. "I thank you, I will not forget your help."

Now it was Garrett's turn to snort, crossing his arms over his chest and looking decidedly unimpressed. "Yes, I'm a paragon for a _human_, I _thank_ _you_ for pointing that out." Carver blinked, exchanging a worried look with Bethany. "I'm also not an idiot, like you'd probably say most humans are, and noticed that you didn't answer my question. Why not send Merrill with some of your hunters?"

"I..." Marethari hesitated, grimacing as she glanced over at a Merrill now busy staring at the ground, poking at it with what Carver only now noticed to be bare feet. "...it's a Dalish issue, human, nothing of your concern, but no hunter will escort her, that is why I asked this of you."

"Will? Or _wants _to?" Garrett queried, making Carver shoot him a glare as Merrill shifted her feet, clearly uncomfortable with the topic of the conversation. "And why wouldn't they want to? What are you hid-"

Before Carver could act, Varric, so far quiet, tugged at Garrett's arm. "Hawke, I know we haven't had the _best_ reception here, but guests are supposed to act a certain way too, so let's just get this over with..."

"I..." Garrett hesitated, eyeing the Keeper with what almost seemed to be hostility...and then shrugged. "...yes, of course, you're right." He turned to look at Merrill, making her look up as he snapped. "Merrill, lead us up the mountain then." Then he turned back to the Keeper, offering a quick nod. "Keeper."

With that, he strode on, making the entire group hurry to catch up. Even Merrill, the one supposed to show them the way, had to run to take the lead.

"So..." Carver hurried up next to Merrill, unable to stop himself. "...you've been in Sundermount for long?"

Before the elf could reply, Garrett spoke up ahead. "Carver, _don't_."

"Right, of course." Carver instantly replied, shooting daggers at Garrett's back.

_Not_. He shot the confused-looking elf a reassuring smile.

8

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"So the elves of old buried their dead atop mountains? Fascinating..." Garrett nodded, pleased. It was long since he had studied anything, and while she wasn't a book, Merrill knew, as an apprentice to become Keeper, everything there was to know about the Dalish, and was surprisingly happy to share.

Which had been the only good thing during the journey so far. Garrett knew he would be uncomfortable surrounded by elves, and yes, he had been a bit..._short_ with them, more so than his usual diplomatic self. Not that they had helped things along. _I'm good enough for a human_? _How kind of them to make such judgement_..._one would think being exposed to human oppression they'd try to be better than us_. _Then again, they seem convinced that they __are_..._what_ _an_ _arrogant_ _people_.

"Yes." Merrill smiled up at him, apparently unable to read the thoughts threatening to burst out of his mouth. Behind him, Garrett could feel Carver's glare, but ignored it, he had started the conversation with Merrill mostly out of a need to know the road ahead, but also to keep him from trying to hook up with a damn Dalish, who knew how she would hurt him? _Tricky_ _elves_..._what_ _are_ _you_ _hiding_? The elf simply smiled, bouncing slightly with each step. "Though it wasn't _really_ a burial, it was a long sleep, back when we were immortal."

"I've always found that curious, I've never read anything in the Chantry about the elves being immortal." Garrett pointed out, genuinely curious, yet also hoping the elf would reveal something about _why_ she wouldn't be escorted by her own people._ I don't trust this, they're hiding something_...

"Well of course the _Chantry_ wouldn't..." Merrill rolled her eyes, then put her hand over her mouth as her eyes widened. "Oh, sorry! I didn't mean to imply...that's to say I wasn't trying to insult you or say that you're wrong...well I _did_ mean that but-"

"You are free to disagree with the Chantry scholars however much you want." Garrett interrupted, sensing what the elf was trying to get across and decidedly ignoring Bethany's chuckle following Merrill's little outburst. "And me, for that matter, I just wanted to get the facts right." He shrugged. "So does this mean there's a burial chamber at the top or not?"

"Err, yes, there is." Merrill replied, calming down. "Our immortality was gone, and we waged a great battle very near from here, those slain were buried at the top." She cocked her head to the side, frowning as she eyed the top of the mountain. "I wonder how long that took? Seems an awful long way to carry so many..." Garrett nodded in agreement even as she turned back to him, looking a bit awkward. "Anyway, the dead there have been a bit...restless as of late...I guess..."

"Restless?" Garrett came to a stop, eyes narrowing. _Knew it, elven trickery_... "What do you mean, restless?"

"Erm...some..." Merrill shifted where she stood, offering an awkward smile and a shrug. "...got up?" Behind him, Garrett heard the others groan, and he himself wasn't far away from doing the same. "They're not _many_..." Merrill's voice rose in pitch. "...the hunters would have taken care of them themselves in time..."

_Yet instead we are sent to do it, much better to risk a __human_... Garrett nearly found himself glaring at the elf, despite the innocent look on her face. Fenris was the one replying though, his tone even. "I've fought undead before, summoned by Danarius' minions, they are easily destroyed, if one doesn't flinch or mind the stench."

"Good." Garrett reluctantly shot the elf a thankful nod, it was good to know the resistance would be minor. Then he turned back to Merrill. "So why didn't they do this, if it is so easy?"

"Well...because of..._that_." Merrill pointed at a strange bubble that Garrett only now noticed, the purple shimmer nearly invisible with the strong sun shining into their eyes. It was covering an outcropping of the mountain, some grass even growing on the ground as stones Garrett at first had assumed to be part of the mountain turned out to be worn headstones, barely recognizable as such. "I guess it's partly why I'm up here, I'm the only one who could bring it down..."

Garrett frowned, there was something nervous, even _guilty_, in Merrill's voice. "I see...the Keeper couldn't bring this down?" The elf shook her head, biting her bottom lip. Garrett glanced back at the other two mages. "Anders, Bethany?"

"I...don't recognise this magic." Bethany murmured, eyes closing as she held a hand forward. "I don't really _want_ to sense it, actually...don't think I could crack it open either."

"I've sensed it before." Anders muttered, his mood suddenly having soured as he leant on his staff. "Yet..._not_, it stinks..."

"_All_ magic stinks." Fenris snorted, making Anders and Bethany shoot him a glare.

"I can open it, give me a moment." Merrill stepped closer to the shimmering aura, tone firm.

Turning his head, Garrett spoke quickly. "Right, a few skeletons, Fenris says they're no problem, but we don't take any risks. Fenris and Carver, with me up front, Varric to the left, Anders right, Bethany, you stay behind me. Are you listening? Why are you-" Finding the eyes of the others bulge, Garrett looked back to Merrill...and found his eyes widen as he took a frightened step backwards.

The elf's left hand held a dagger stained by a blood, blood seeping from her right palm as without hesitating she slammed it up against the shimmering field. _Blood_ _magic_!

Dark red lines of blood seeped from the impact, creating lines in the shimmering aura spreading out like crimson cracks...and then the cracks rushed outwards, covering more and more until the entire field was covered with it.

Without a sound, it fell apart and faded before it could hit the ground.

"There, now we can-" Merrill turned, and found herself staring at the tip of Garrett's sword.

"So _that's_ why they wouldn't come up here themselves." Garrett snarled, anger filling him. "_That's_ why they sent us with you instead, _that's_ why they won't escort you to Kirkwall themselves..." He found himself hissing the words. "You're a _blood_ _mage_...a _danger_ to your clan, so they send _us_ instead. I should have known you bloody manipulative elves would lie..."

"It wasn't lying!" Merrill gasped, eyes wide. "It was just..." She licked her lips. "...not telling the whole story, that's all."

Next to Garrett, Fenris stepped forth, eyes narrowed. "She deals with demons. Who knows who's speaking those words? Kill her."

For once, Garrett found himself agreeing with the elf, anger filling him as he inched closer to a horrified-looking blood mage...

Only for Anders to speak up. "I don't approve of blood magic, but you can't kill her for it. Besides, the Keeper asked you to take her to Kirkwall, I hardly think she'll approve of you killing her. In fact, I'm pretty sure the Dalish would protest that...with arrows and fireballs."

Garrett hesitated. _Damn_..._he's_ _right_. Grunting, he sheathed his sword, making Merrill's shoulders sag in relief, only to shoot up once more as he jabbed a finger into her face, eyes narrowed. "I don't want to see a single spell more out of you, you hear me?"

"Errr, I can still cast without using-"

"Not. A. Single. Spell." Garrett stopped her protest, jabbing the finger into her chest with each word.

"Okay..." Merrill lowered her head, looking away, though something defiant still shone in the corner of her eyes, making Garrett frown in irritation. _Dammit, I don't need another one like Carver, who does what she's told until I turn away, __especially__ not a blood mage_._ After we reach Kirkwall we'll part ways as soon as possible_.

"Good, now stand back." Brushing past the elf, Garrett shot Carver a quick glare, daring his brother to comfort the Dalish, then turned his attention to the field ahead, sword and shield ready.

Only to find half a dozen skeletons littering the ground, apparently having collapsed. "What the...?"

"Oh, guess the spell I cast to keep these demons away from the camp also banished them when I removed them, guess they fed off the barrier to exist..." Merrill said, already having perked up.

Garrett scowled at her, anger still filling him. "You _guess_! Even _I_ know a mage should _think_ before she _casts_!" At least Merrill flinched at _that_, a guilty look in her eyes. "And what spell did you cast that summoned them in the first place! You felt like having a chat with your ancestors!"

Merrill's head turned back, her eyes flashing in defiance for but a moment, only to look away a moment later, her tone weary. "You wouldn't understand..."

Angry, Garrett kept glaring at her, wanting...he didn't know what, to do something violent. _Bloody_ _elves_. Growling, Garret found himself turning to the pedestal at the end of the outcropping, his patience waning. "Let's get this over with..." Stepping up to the worn stone, he placed the amulet upon it. "Merrill, do your ceremony, then we leave and get you to Kirkwall, from there you're on your own."

"I...understand." Merrill muttered, the elf brushing past him as Garrett stepped away, not sure he trusted the elf with anything that could be magical, and in particular anything _Flemeth_ had brought. Putting her hands on the cold stone, Merrill looked down at the amulet, her voice soft. "Hahren na melana sahlin." Garrett easily suppressed his curiosity about the foreign tongue, for all he was concerned, he was _done_ with the Dalish. "Emma ir abelas, souver'inan isala hamin, vehnan him dor'felas, in uthenera ne revas."

Sighing, Garrett crossed his arms over his chest, shooting Carver a glare as he noticed the boy hadn't quite stopped with his staring, _despite_ the revelation that the object of his latest choice of conquest was not only an elf, but a damn _blood_ _mage_.

"Vir sulahn'nen, vir dirthera, vir samahl la numin, vir lath sa'vunin." The elf bowed her head, hands slipping off the stone as she took a step back...

And then Flemeth stood before them.

Garrett blinked – while he had figured the amulet magical and that Flemeth had a plan with it, he hadn't thought it would summon her – as the others gasped, only Merrill seemed unsurprised as she dropped upon one knee.

The old woman stretched, her worn dress rustling as she with surprising ease jumped off the stone. "Ah, and here we are, I half expected you to have sold the amulet by now." Her amber eyes looked over at Garrett, amused.

"It occurred to me." Garrett admitted, having recovered from his surprise. "It also occurred to me that making you an enemy would be unwise."

"Ah yes, always the _clever_ boy." Flemeth chuckled. "I'm glad you were, it would have been..._unfortunate_ otherwise." A predatory smile appeared on her lips for the briefest of moments, convincing Garrett beyond doubt that he had made the right choice.

"Wait...couldn't you just have flown here?" Carver managed the question, the boy stumbling over his words, clearly he was still shocked at the sight of the old witch.

"I had things to do." Flemeth smirked. "Time and space are so limiting at times, sometimes you just have to reach beyond it."

Garrett found himself shuddering. _Blood magic, now this, father would __not__ like this_... "I'm glad you're pleased with the conclusion, I gather you'll be off then?"

"So eager, so impatient." Flemeth smiled, then looked over at the still kneeling Merrill. "Ah, I see...a bit on edge are we?" She looked back up at Garrett, smirking. "Men _always_ fear what they do not know." Then back down to Merrill. "As to you, my little flower, I would be careful about who I made dealings with, the darkest waters always carry the largest sharks."

"Yes, Asha'belannar." Merrill somehow managed to bow her head even further where she knelt.

"Hmpf." Flemeth snorted, finding something amusing in the reply, then turned back to Garrett before letting her gaze sweep over the others in the group. "It seems you make interesting..._friends_." She cocked her head to the side. "You'll need them."

"What? How..." Garrett felt another shudder run through him. "...can you see the future?"

"Sometimes, not today." Flemeth shrugged. "But I also _listen_, to the current, to the change in the wind..." Again, the predatory grin appeared. "...to the growing storm." A shrug. "Take it for what you will, for me it matters not, though I _would_ like to see a happy ending for you, they are so few and far apart in these dark days..."

Garrett blinked, confused, worried...yet not sure if he'd dare show it. "Thank you."

A laugh escaped the woman, her head rocking back. "Oh don't thank this old crone for her meaningless prattle! Just take it for what it is." She looked back to him, taking a deep breath. "Well, I shan't keep you from your important work, goodbye."

A flash...and a dragon was lifting off the cliff, the wind thrown from its flapping wings nearly knocking the group over as the dragon roared and flew off.

Silence, them all staring at the rapidly disappearing dragon.

"Well..." Merrill said, tone bright. "...that was exciting!"

8

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for making time for this one._


	23. Chapter 23

Garrett was impressed.

It didn't happen that often, but Varric had managed it with no real effort, which made it doubly impressive. "You got her a _house_? We just got here." Garrett arched an eyebrow, looking down at Varric. He _had_ seen the dwarf speak to one of the many dirty elves at the city gates, but he hadn't thought it would lead to anything, and especially not before they had even _reached_ the Alienage. _Really_ _impressive_...

The dwarf shot him a confident smirk. "Haven't I told you? I make deals where everybody wins. With enough such deals I'm owed a lot of goodwill... I can move things around with not a coin spent."

_He can get a house, albeit in the Alienage, with but a few words while I'm still struggling to be seen as legitimate. Varric must be on to something with this goodwill_. Garrett nodded, understanding. He was still marred by his earlier career, and though his companionship with Hubert had made his reputation a little better, there was still a long way to go. _Mother want us to be respected, both for who we are and who we were. I can understand that, but Varric's words makes it more desirable. Gold is not the only thing we'll need if we're to keep Bethany from the Chantry's clutches, we'll need allies_. "I see, I'll think on that."

Behind him, Carver chuckled, slightly out of breath from the weight he was carrying. "Like you _could_ stop!"

Ignoring the joke that brought a little giggle out of Bethany and a smirk out of Varric, Garrett eyed the house in front of him, though his thoughts were elsewhere. _We could just cut our work short now. Hubert's mine is in its infancy, but there's still a small income there that'll only grow with time_... only strange people go on treasure hunts after all. _Though it would take years before we got enough money to live comfortably, and all that time we would live in fear. Even after we've amassed some wealth there will be trouble, it won't be enough of a shield for her_. Garrett was sure Hubert was skimming on the income too, giving himself more than his share... but given how Garrett was simply there for appearances and doing nothing, he couldn't well confront the man about it. _Plus, we don't know if the mine will turn into a proper success_... _no, we'll continue with Varric's plan, a successful haul and my family will be safe and we'll have enough gold to buy ourselves friends and earn goodwill if I play my cards right_. "Won't you have to pay for this in some way though? I've yet to see an elf give something away out of the goodness of his heart."

"Clearly you don't know enough elves." Varric chuckled dutifully, though swiftly continued. "And yes, I suppose I will, in coin or some other manner, but it's a small thing, well worth the price of putting our little abomination in safety, eh?" Garrett couldn't help but agree with that, shuddering at the memory of Merrill's blood magic. She was unguarded fire as far as he was concerned, and the first thing she would consume if anything happened would be him and his kin. _Bloody Keeper, putting a blood mage in our care, if she turns into a monster we're all in danger, if Meredith finds her and questions her_..._damn elves, why must I solve their problems_?

The house wasn't actually too bad. It looked even more rickety than Gamlen's place, and the odour was even worse due to the ground being littered with garbage. But it was a large place supported by two other houses leaning into it from each side and was close to the Alienage's Vhenadahl, something the Dalish elf would surely appreciate, given their fondness for trees.

_Speaking of the elf_... Garrett turned to regard the woman, calmly watching her as with wide eyes she looked left and right, staring at the houses and people like it was some great wonder to her. _Considering her origin, perhaps it is_. Garrett didn't like what he saw. The elf was thin and small like most her kin, her large eyes and every part of her face and expressions seemingly holding an innocence that reminded Garrett of a kitten. She looked so innocent... yet was probably the most dangerous person currently in the Alienage. _Like a demon_... _which isn't far from what she is_.

Which was why Garrett found himself throwing Carver yet another annoyed look. He wasn't sure how many he'd given his brother by now, but ever since they'd left the Dalish camp, they had been piling up.

Carver was oblivious though, smirking at Merrill's innocent expression as he took deep breaths, leaning on the cloth-covered thing she'd asked them to bring with them to the Alienage. It was large, one and a half of Carver's length and nearly as wide, though thin and apparently not too heavy, since the man – oh so chivalrously – had offered to carry it for the elf back at the camp. Still, it had been a long way to go, and Carver was covered in sweat and still taking deep breaths, yet true to form, he tried to look casual, leaning on the cloth-covered item while smiling at Merrill. "So, should I assume this is your first time in a city, Merrill?"

Garrett and Bethany rolled their eyes nearly in sync, and Anders was throwing their brother an amused look while Fenris decided to include the man in everything else he was scowling at. Yet Merrill seemed not to notice, the Dalish staring at the houses, then the people passing them by, though warily, given there were humans with her, and _armed_ ones at that. "There's sooo many people here, and I saw so many more on the streets getting here... do _all_ of them live in this city?"

"Yes." Garrett replied swiftly, shooting Carver a grim look to stop any additions to the answer. _Let's just get this over with so we can leave_...

"And this..." Merrill looked at the many elves around them, then the dilapidated houses, and finally the ground, grimacing at the last as she shifted her stance, trying to avoid standing on a rotten apple. "..._this_ is where the elves live?"

"It's disgusting, yes." Fenris growled. The other elf had so far been quiet, having settled for glaring at Merrill's back, seemingly contemplating stabbing her there, but now he saw fit to speak up, his glare aimed at the other elves around them and making several inch away. "But if you act like a sheep, you'll be corralled as one." A snort. "Not that you Dalish would know, you're _free_, or so you like to claim." His tone suggested he believed anything but that.

Merrill's forehead wrinkled in a frown, her slim shoulders stiffening slightly, though her tone was still friendly as she shot Fenris a smile. "Why yes, we are, but I'm sure the people here are really nice too, they'd have to be, with us all living so close together, right?"

_Oh Maker, they'll eat her alive_. Garrett exchanged a worried glance with Varric. Not that Garrett was actually worried of the elf dying, that would actually solve the problem of her knowing of his family, but if she trusted the wrong elf and he or she went to the Templars, that was another matter. Clearing his throat, Varric sidestepped the issue however. "So, Merrill wasn't it? What's up with this hunk our good Carver has been carrying with him? Must be important, it's practically the only thing you've brought." He was right, the backpack on Merrill's back was frightfully small, perhaps containing but a single change of clothing and a few tools... but who knew what a Dalish considered essential?

"Oh that?" Merrill looked back at Carver – or rather, much to his disappointment, the item he was carrying – biting her bottom lip with indecisiveness for but a moment._ Damn it_! _It's something bad again_! _Bloody elves_! Then she shrugged, sighing. "It's the reason they don't want me in the clan anymore, it's the Eluvian..."

"Carver, step away from that thing." Garrett snapped the order, and his brother obeyed, only a moment later remembering to scowl at Garrett. Taking a step closer to the elf, Garrett narrowed his eyes. "_What_ is an Eluvian? Have you made us bring some blood magic infused artefact into the city?"

Merrill was staring at the cloth-covered Eluvian in fright, having no doubt worried it would fall when Carver released it, but seeing as it didn't, she turned back to Garrett and stared at him with wide eyes. "Wh-what? No, no, it's just a mirror...well...a _broken_ mirror."

"You want me to fix it for you?" Carver offered, only for his mouth to slam shut after a glare from Garrett.

"And _why_ do you need a broken mirror?" Garrett asked, knowing better than to dismiss the thing as harmless._ You don't name a mirror something like that and get banished due to it for nothing_.

"Well... I want to _fix_ it... it's...it's an old elven artefact, once magical, able to help us communicate through great distances." _Once, she said once_... Garrett eyed the elf warily, weighing her every word, ready for the deception he was sure would come. "With it, I might be able to find other clans, lost lands and other artefacts, get back some of what we once were." _Commendable_, _but_..." But it's broken, and I need to fix it, and the only thing that seems to work in reforging the pieces seems to be blood-"

"_No_ casting that in the city, _especially_ blood-magic." Garrett snapped before the elf could finish, glaring at her. "In fact, no casting spell_s what so ever_." He sensed Bethany shift at his words, uncomfortable with that rule, but knowing there was no other way. Garrett forced his gaze to remain on the elf though, intent on getting the information across. "This is essentially a Templar-controlled city. If they find out you've been casting magic, they'll lock you up if you're lucky, but most likely kill you."

"Templars often hunt us Dalish, due to our Keepers knowing magic..." Merrill grimaced, gaze distant. "...I know how to hide myself from their senses."

"Good." Garrett nodded, though then he crossed his arms. "That said, I said no casting magic, and I _meant_ it."

Merrill looked up at him, a flicker of defiance in her large eyes... and then looked away, the look gone as soon as it had arrived. "No magic..."

_She won't obey_. Garrett knew it, yet there was little he could do about that, so he just had to hope the elf had _some_ sense as to _when_ it came to cast her foul magic. "Good." He eased his arms off his chest. "Now, will you be okay here?"

Merrill's eyes widened at the implication in his question, looking decidedly lost and near panic as she stared around herself. "I...I...no?" Looking embarrassed, she shifted where she stood. "I... well... I don't even know... erm... where do you... erm..." She was blushing furiously all of a sudden, making Carver smile and Bethany giggle, though Garrett chose not to make note of it. Merrill inched closer, lowering her voice. "...make water and... that other thing."

Varric, standing next to Garrett, chuckled at that, but Garrett simply shrugged, he'd lived enough in the wild in his early life to know there was a big difference between there and the city. "There's likely a chamberpot in the house, you can empty it in the river if you can manage the walk, or in the street."

"A p-pot...?" Merrill echoed, blinking in slowly dawning realisation. "You want me to... and to...?" She stared down at the ground under her feet... and paled, legs stiffening as she raised her heels, as if wishing to stand as little as possible on the ground as possible. "I think I'm going to be sick..."

"I admit to not having much love for these less sanitary parts of living in a city either." Anders remarked, the mage's eyes cool upon the elf. "But it's a good hiding place from the clutches of Templars, and you don't want them to find you."

"Yes, perish the thought that they'd be allowed to do their duty." Fenris dryly remarked, making the human mages in the group shoot him glares.

"_Anyway_." Carver spoke up, taking a step closer to Merrill with a soothing smile on his face. "Don't worry so much about it, we're your friends, we'll help out."

"_Really_?!" Merrill smiled, apparently delighted with the idea as Garrett suppressed the urge to sigh and slap his face."You'd do that for me?"

Garrett forced himself to nod, not about to let Carver into the conversation and encourage any of his 'courting'. _We've had enough of dangerous elves in our beds_. "I suppose, given how you were sent here with us, that you're partly our responsibility."_ Plus, I don't like the idea of not keeping an eye on you_. "I can't make any promises, but we'll do what we can."

Snorting, Fenris turned to leave at that, a quiet Anders following him a moment later, but Varric and Garrett's siblings remained, all looking quite taken with the pixieish elf. _So are people with Desire demons, a danger that looks harmless, though no matter what Carver might think, there's where the similarity ends_. The elf was turning brilliant green eyes to each of those remaining in turn, looking ridiculously grateful. "Oh thank you so much! I've never really had that many friends, so this is _very_ exciting! Maybe you can come and visit? Oh! Oh! Maybe _I_ can visit? People in cities do that, right? Because everyone doesn't live in one area?"

_This isn't going as I hoped_... Garrett glumly noted even as Varric chuckled. "See? You're taking to the city-life already."

"Yeah, next moment she'll beat you at haggling with the merchants in Hightown!" Carver replied with a chuckle, once more inching slightly closer to the elf.

"H-haggling?" Merrill echoed, looking lost once more.

_Maker, she looks like a kicked puppy_. Garrett understood her problem, though the idea of educating an elf in the elementaries of city life stuck in his throat a bit, he had little choice now with everyone else around. "Haggling, you argue with the merchant to make him lower his price, essentially."

"Why... I wouldn't want to argue with someone..." Merrill swallowed. "...why would I be so mean to make him lower his... price?"

"It's _expected_." Carver eagerly answered. "They put the price high, you offer them less, then you try to find something in the middle, if you don't haggle they'll rob you blind."

Merrill's eyes somehow managed to grow bigger. "Why would they do that!?"

"Erm... for your money. They like getting lots for their stuff..." Carver replied, looking uncertain as he shot Garrett a glance.

Who had by now understood the problem. "In the human nations, and in cities in particular, we use _coins_. Gold, silver and copper is traded for items we need. You want food, you pay a few coppers to a hunter for a hare, you want a knife, you pay a merchant half a silver."

"Half a... how can you have _half_ of a silver?" Merrill asked, then shook her head. "Back in the clan we just... _took_. Anything you needed, you _used_... you know, sharing...? Sure, we traded with some Avvars and the like, but never for... _coin_." She frowned, clearly perplexed, and maybe a little displeased. "Seems kind of stupid to refuse to give someone food because they don't have some useless metals on them..."

Garrett inclined his head in agreement, but shrugged. "Like it or not, that's how it works. There's many who don't have the coin, but on the other hand, you can't expect people to give their things away when there's so many who want them, you have to _earn_ it."

"We earn our keep in our clan!" Merrill replied, raising her voice, sensing criticism that wasn't there. Seeing the neutral look on Garrett's face, she blushed, taking half a step back. "I mean... I understand." Carver and Bethany grinned at that, as if finding it cute, making Garrett mentally roll his eyes. "H-how many people are in the city?"

"The last census said something close to five hundred thousand." Garrett replied with a shrug. "Though they don't count the people in Darktown, so it could be near a million, probably."

"You read the census?" Varric asked, sounding amused. "I thought I was the only one."

"It pays to know your city." Garrett calmly replied, choosing to ignore the way Bethany snickered at him while Carver remained practically drooling at the sight of the elf. _I need to talk some sense into him when we get home_.

"That's what I always say." Varric grunted back, then turned his gaze back to the elf. "Oh dear, Daisy, you okay?"

_Daisy_? Garrett too looked though, and found the elf pale as a ghost. "A... a million? I can't even... a m-million? Here? W-won't we ru-un out of w-water...?"

"Haven't so far." Bethany helpfully replied, smiling reassuringly. "Just act like everyone else, and you should be fine, blend in."

_That won't be too easy_. Garrett noted, glancing at the tattoo covering the Dalish's face. "Exactly, if no one is acting odd, you have nothing to worry about... but do be careful at nights, it's dangerous outside at sundown."

"Like in the woods." Merrill replied, nodding, some colour returning to her face as she offered what Garrett supposed was a brave smile. "I think... I think I know the basics now, thank you..." A thoughtful frown creased her forehead. "Though... where do you _get_ these...coins?"

"Oh boy..." Varric sighed even as Bethany took a deep breath, even _Carver_ looked a bit annoyed, though it swiftly turned back to adoration.

Garrett had expected it though, and was prepared with an answer. "Through work, though you can't do any magic, and I have a feeling most other elves can do the other work elves usually do in the city better than you... no offense." He considered the woman for a moment, then nodded to himself. "Now, if you promise to use no blood magic, I _might_ be able to offer a job. I could use some help with a Magistrate's son..." _Yes, I could use her there, keep an eye on her and perhaps secure an ally in her as well while making sure she stops with the blood magic_... _several birds with one stone_... _though Carver better behave. _"If you'll come, do you wish to discuss payment now or later?"

"Oh, I can help!" The elf cheerfully exclaimed, looking surprisingly eager, face earnest. "And there's no reason to talk about coins, I wouldn't know what's proper anyway, I'm sure you'll be fair."

_She has a point_. Was Garrett's first thought. _She's_... _not_ _trying to trick me_? Was his second.

He narrowed his eyes, but the elf simply looked back, all earnest and innocent-looking.

Suspicious, Garrett none the less offered his hand. "We have a deal."

8

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8

_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for doing the impossible._


	24. Chapter 24

Garrett was concerned.

Marching forward as fast as his legs would allow without breaking into a jog, he frowned, knowing his haste would probably be for naught.

The Wounded coast was as beautiful as it had been the last time Garrett had seen it. It was still a warm summer, though there was a chill in the wind holding a promise of the short autumn the Free Marches had before the mostly wet winter came... but so far there were green leaves on the few trees and shrubs littering the dunes and cliffs, and thankfully so, since the expedition would leave – Hawkes or no – in the winter months. That was only partially on Garrett's mind though, mostly he chose to focus on the present, the part he could affect.

The Magistrate who had hired him had only promised payment if Garrett was the one actually _retrieving_ his son, simply searching would yield no reward. And now he'd heard the city guard had found the boy before him, which meant they were going there simply on Varric's hunch that the guards not yet having returned meant they might actually have trouble retrieving the boy. _I shouldn't have wasted time on Flemeth, though then again, I could hardly have expected the guard to actually be competent for once_... _this smells like Aveline's doing_. At the thought, though it might mean he'd arrive to see himself losing his reward, Garrett hurried just a little faster._ It's been too long, will be nice to see one of the few dependable people I know again_.

At his back, his companions followed... though not all of them. Anders was, as he usually was, busy. Isabela and Fenris both required payment for a job like this, and even if Garrett did get his reward to pay them with, it was a bit too small to justify that expense._ It's just getting a boy, how hard can it be_?

Varric was the one closest to him – though Garrett now noticed the dwarf had to jog to keep up, and slowed down a bit for the man's benefit – and was smirking up at him. "So what do you think, Hawke? Fairly good pay and a job that'll secure you some recognition, am I good or what?"

"_If_ we can get our reward." Garrett corrected. "And even so, it's not that great, two gold is indeed nothing to sneer at, but it's hardly the Viscount's treasury. Still, you're right, I must admit that meeting you has been the best thing that happened to my family since we arrived in Kirkwall."

"Oh stop it, you're making me blush." The dwarf made a shoving gesture at the air between them, as if wishing to push Garrett away, though his grin said otherwise. "As for the reward... you've clearly not seen the Viscount's treasury..."

"And you have?" Garrett countered, somewhat amused by his... he supposed the dwarf had earned the title of 'friend'. _Though I must remember that friends come and go_... _just in case my family needs it_. "No wonder it's so empty then."

A chuckle exploded from Varric. "Oh-ho! A joke!? From you? Should I expect the coming of the Maker any moment now?"

"I do believe that'll take longer, as our Qunari friends are ample proof of." Garrett was no great believer. That is, he didn't believe in the Chantry's words, it had been too much of a threat, too much of a danger, for him to hold any love for them and their false words of love for your fellow man. But Bethany _had_ told him of the Black City in the Fade, always in the distance yet _very_ real, and everyone knew of demons... who was to say there was no Maker? It was the Chantry that spoke of the Maker returning once the chant of light had spread to all corners of the world though... for only when everyone sang it, He would hear their call for forgiveness for sullying His creation... so Garrett did take that part with a grain of salt.

"Not to mention our other friend." Varric added, nodding back at the next one in the group.

Garrett frowned at the sight of the elf, his usual suspicion of her kin clinging to him like a wet cloak. She _had_ promised to use no blood magic if magic was required, and she _had_ asked for no reward but what he gave her... but he suspected both her promise and her play at innocence would crumple once challenged. Still, with no real promise of payment, he had chosen to take her along to see if she was of any use, and to keep an eye on her. To him, she fell at the same category as Fenris and Isabela, he found their opinions alien, their behaviour unsettling... and in Merrill's case it was even _dangerous_. For while bigotry against mages was all too common, and irresponsibility could be contained when watched carefully, the casual use of magic and disgusting blood magic was downright madness. _Bloody_ _elf_. "You mean the Dalish gods? I must confess, I know little about them." _Not like the Chantry in Lothering was big on carrying 'heretical' texts_.

"Ah, so you don't dismiss them as fiction like most?" Varric arched an eyebrow, curious.

Garrett could only shrug. "Given my reasoning to believing the Maker exists, there is little I can say that argues against them existing too. It would be silly of me to off-handedly deny the existence of one god simply because I believe in another."

"Huh, with a reasoning like that, the Dales would still exist and there would have been no Exalted Marches on the Qunari... history books would be even more boring than they are now."

"They aren't boring, but you're entitled to your opinion." Garrett replied, drawing a chuckle from the dwarf as his gaze lingered on the elf behind them. She was staring around herself with large eyes, as if she'd never seen the sea... though the way her face turned a little greener, maybe she _did_ have some experience with it? _Though I suppose with eyes large as that, she looks innocent and amazed no matter what_... _elves are hard to read_._ Maybe she has never seen a beach_? He shook his head, it was of no consequence. _If she proves she's not a complete danger, I might ask her off her gods, might be interesting to learn of them_..._t hough not sure if sating my curiosity is worth it if it gives Carver more opportunities to fawn_.

At the thought, Garrett's gaze moved further back to his siblings, his eyes catching sight of Bethany kneeling down by the side of the path they were following, the woman looking thoughtful as she pinched a blue flower by the stem and pulled off the bud.

Anders had been teaching Bethany a bit of alchemy and various herbs, which Garrett whole-heartedly approved of. He still saw the possessed mage as a danger, but he had been unable to deny Bethany's request to learn things from him once his sister had used her big brown eyes on him. Still, if his sister learnt to make various poultices to help with her poor healing magic, who was he to argue? Besides, if things somehow didn't pan out as planned with their search for wealth in the Deep Roads, her knowing a profession as a healer would be handy.

Carver was still following though, gaze fixed on Merrill a few feet ahead of him, making Garrett sigh. He knew he couldn't change Carver's appetite for companionship with the fairer sex, but there were far better choices of women to pursue, something harmless like a serving wench, a guards-woman, a _human_...not a bloody elven blood-mage! Garrett had seriously considered leaving Carver behind to help and guard mother instead of Maric... but he knew if he had, Carver would have been offended, and Garrett didn't have the strength to deal with that today.

Plus, if Garrett had to be honest, Maric was a more reliable guard who wouldn't look twice at their stash of money.

_At least he's not staring at her rear_. Garrett noted, though the thought held a kernel of worry, for Carver was looking at the back of Merrill's head, at the curve of her neck...and that struck Garret as almost more worrying than if he'd been leering at her as he had with some women back at Lothering._ Eugh, maybe I could have mother have a talk with him_? _I'm not a good choice for explaining why certain women _–_ even when it's blatantly obvious why an elven blood-mage would be dangerous _–_ would be bad for him, he'd get defensive with me_..._again_.

"So..." Merrill interrupted his thoughts, the elf moving to catch up with him and Varric, eyes large and curious. "...what's a magistrate?"

"A judge, Daisy." Varric quickly replied, smiling at her like everyone but Garrett seemed to like to do. _I don't see why though_... The woman was pretty, he supposed, for an _elf_, but Garrett wasn't about to forget what she _was_ simply because she acted all innocent and tried to be 'adorable', as Bethany had called it.

"One of the two of Kirkwall, they're minor nobles paid a stipend to deal with crimes among the commoners, mostly running courts for major crimes or those where the question of guilt is in question." Garrett added, ignoring the amused glance Varric shot him at knowing the specifics._ People know too little of those that govern them, whether in Ferelden or Kirkwall, I feel_... "And as I said, we're here to rescue his son."

"_Really_?" Varric asked with a teasing tone. "I thought we were here to arrest a dangerous criminal and fugitive to bring back to prison."

"Oh? We're looking for two people?" Merrill asked cheerfully, though her tone dulled as she continued. "Though that second one sounds a bit scary..."

"They're one and the same." Garrett grunted as Varric chuckled in amusement. "The Magistrate only spoke of the fugitive though, it was Varric who found out the man is actually the Magistrate's son." He shrugged. "I'm assuming the boy is a bit of an embarrassment with his crimes and that his father wants him locked up." _I'd never accept that happening to any in my family_...t_hough Varric hinted at that the Magistrate wanted him locked up for his own safety_..._damn, that's a difficult position to be in_.

"Oh? What did he do?" Merrill asked, both her and Garrett turning a questioning look to Varric.

The dwarf grimaced. "You really don't want to know...it's not pretty."

"It's not important anyway." Garrett shrugged. "We were hired to get him back to his cell, so that's what we're going to do."_ For money and to get our name out there for legitimate business_.

That's when they crossed the final ridge, finally allowing them to see the destination an off-duty sergeant – with far too big a mouth, according to Aveline – of the Guard had pointed them to.

The guardsmen had actually made a bit of an entrenched camp. Though small, only containing four white tents large enough to hold a few men, the ground had been ditched around it and sharpened stakes lined the inner side of of the mound that the thrown dirt had created on the inside of the ditch, promising pain to anyone too eager to cross. _It looks like a somewhat sloppy military camp, probably to fend of bandits_... _yes, this has to be Aveline, no doubt she's whipped the other guardsmen into making this, and lead by example_.

Built at the base of a low mound of rubble, the camp nearly hid the entrance to a cave, as did the guardsmen now lining the dirt mound to face the approaching group... and both the sight of the cave and the wary guardsmen filled Garrett's heart with hope. _They don't have him, they're besieging him_. Though the thought made him frown too. _But_ _why_?

Gesturing at the others not to reach for any weapon or similar, though none really needed the urging, Garrett slowed the pace, letting the guardsmen get a good look on the group as they approached. In mere moments, a familiar voice called out though. "Stand down, guardsmen! They're with me!" Shouldering her way past two men returning their arrows into their quivers, Aveline's auburn hair appeared at the top of the mound, her face somewhat hard to make out at that distance, but her tone positive. "Hawke! I recognize your family and dwarf anywhere, get over to the gate and I'll let you in!"

"_Your_ dwarf?" Varric muttered, though loudly enough for everyone to hear. "What am I, the Hawke mascot?"

Bethany, naturally, giggled at the joke. The rest of the group smiled as they moved to where the woman was pointing.

The 'gate' turned out to be a collection of thorny bushes mounted up on a crudely axed skeleton of wooden planks nailed together to form something resembling a bench without a seat, enough to deter animals and the like, but hardly a real gate. As it was pulled aside by a pair of guardsmen, Garrett found himself facing Aveline, their hands gripping each other by the forearm as they exchanged a smile. Noticing Garrett's glance at the defenses, the woman was the first to speak. "There's always bandits around here, as you know, and I don't really want to face them without something in my favour." A hint of a grimace, and she leant closer, her breath brushing Garrett's face as she whispered. "Captain Jeven has given me a bunch of green bastards of merchants dressed up in plate. I'm not sure what he expects me to do with them here though, they barely know how to hold their weapons..."'

There was bitterness in her words, bitterness and a hint of cinnamon in her breath. Garrett released his grip on her and took a step back. "I always say it's best to come prepared, you won't hear any arguments from me." He looked around himself. The guardsmen were sitting by a pair of fires, cooking up what had to be their lunch in a large pot, one roasting a fat squirrel on a stick. Most looked intent on their food or the odd musical instrument they returned to, though some shot the group curious looks, mostly out of boredom, Garrett guessed."I'm surprised you're still here though, I'm guessing our man is in that cave? You have twenty guards here, surely you could go get him?"

"Twenty-_two_, actually." Aveline grumbled, shooting a thumb at one of the tents. With Garrett directing his attention there, he could hear a low moan escape it, one of a woman in pain. "I had to call off the hunt here after our first attempt to enter. Shouted myself hoarse just trying to get these fools to stop routing and pick up their wounded comrades, no way they'll join in another attack." Looking over at the largest group hurdling around their pot with wooden bowls in hand, she frowned, a low growl escaping her. "When we get back, I'm going to put some iron back into their spines... or break them trying..."

Garrett smiled at that, easily imagining the woman training the guardsmen to exhaustion for days until they toughened up. She'd done so with a few of them already, he'd heard. "You really ought to be the Captain of the Guard, you'd do it better than Jeven."

"A _donkey_ could do it better than Jeven." Aveline snorted, arms crossed over her chest...and then finally noticed the elf standing with the group, though the woman was partially hidden behind Varric, watching the many armed humans with eyes wide as saucers. "And who's this? A Dalish?" Aveline arched an eyebrow at Garrett in question.

Who kept a neutral look on his face as he courteously gestured at the elf. "Aveline, this is Merrill, of the Dalish, First to the Keeper. Merrill, this is Aveline Vallen, sergeant of the Kirkwall Guard."

"First of the...?" Aveline begun, eyes scrutinizing the slim elf, eyes darting to her back, noticing the absence of a bow, then the simple wooden staff in the Dalish' hands... and then turning a questioning look to Garrett. "How do you _find_ these people, Garrett?"

He shrugged, mouth a thin line. _What can I say_?

Varric was eager to supply the answer though, the dwarf chuckling. "I like to think _they_ find _him_, actually, makes for a more amusing tale." Aveline shot the smirking dwarf an annoyed look.

Then Merrill finally gathered enough courage to speak up, her voice thin. "It's... nice to meet you, Aveline... I... I like your hair?"

The guards-woman actually blinked. "My hair?" A hand moved up, briefly touching the ginger strands pulled back by a red headband. "Well thank you, that's a first..." _I like it too, actually_. Garrett held his tongue though, not about to make the conversation weird. "Anyway, any friend of Hawke is a friend of mine." She offered her hand.

"Even Isabela?" Varric shot in, making a bark of a laugh escape Carver.

Aveline wisely ignored the barb as she firmly gripped Merrill's hesitant hand, giving it a firm shake. "I'm guessing you're trying to earn some money helping Hawke, eh? Well stay close to me and you'll be okay, my training lends itself to protect your... _kind_." She shot Bethany a look to amplify her point. "Though... aren't you a bit young for this? Sorry, but you don't look like a fighter."

"I... I'm twenty-three, actually." Merrill replied, blinking her large eyes._ Huh, I wouldn't have guessed, elves look so similar to one another unless they're really old_... Then she smiled, a big smile that made Aveline smile back. _Huh, there it is again, what do they see that I don't_? "And I'm not _really_ a fighter...I don't like hurting people...but... well I kind of don't know what else to do and I feel I owe Hawke some help after he helped me... I mean he didn't really help as much as he did what Asha'bellanar had asked him to and..." She blinked as she noticed Varric's gentle smile, face flushing. "...and I'm babbling, sorry."

"It's okay." Aveline replied, then turned her attention back to Garrett, curiosity of the elf sated. "Anyway, yes, so after our abysmal attempts to pursue the criminal, we're out here, waiting him out." The woman grimaced. "I hate it, to be honest, he had a hostage with him, bet she's dead now... likely he is too, but _you_ try telling that to the Magistrate."

"I take it he wasn't the one stopping you from pursuing?" Garrett crossed his arms over his chest.

"Nah, there's animals in that cave, wounded two of my people pretty bad and sent the others scampering off like a bunch of ten year olds..." Aveline spat at the ground in disgust. "I bet the beasts have killed him and the hostage, but I can't say for sure, so here we're staying until he comes out or _someone_ arrives to resolve it..." She offered Garrett a small smile. "Someone who could do with another blade, I think."

"Of course." Garrett offered a small smile back. "Now, what animals are we talking about? A pack of wolves have made their den there or something? A bear or two?"

"Nah, spiders."

"Spiders?" Garrett echoed, a cold shiver running down his spine, a lump in his throat. "What _kind_ of spiders..." Behind him, he heard Carver snicker.

Aveline looked back at him, face blank. "The giant ones, obviously. You know, big as a dog."

"Oh." Garrett felt a shudder of – though it was ridiculous when he thought about it – relief run through him. "Yes, obviously."

"Are you okay?" Aveline asked, looking perplexed.

His snicker rising in volume, Carver couldn't keep his peace. "Garrett's _afraid_ of spiders... the _little_ ones!"

Gritting his teeth, Garrett found his hands clenching into fists. "I'm not _afraid_ of them..." He took a deep breath, sensing Varric's quiet amusement as well as Bethany's struggles not to join Carver in his snickering. "... I just find them... _repulsive_..."_ Always hairy, so bloody hairy_, i_n my face, coming at my eyes_... He shook the memory aside.

"Ah." Aveline looked somewhat amused by the idea, but mercifully pushed the look aside with a shrug. "Well he isn't the first, I don't see the funny side."

"Yes, why is it so funny?" Merrill asked, and Garrett saw her large eyes looking at Carver as he turned to watch the exchange.

Carver seemed somewhat uncomfortable being asked such a direct question, but then managed a conspiratory grin, taking the opportunity to move closer to the elf as with a smirk he replied. "Well it's not simply him being scared of them, it's how you _use_ it... once I put this big hairy one right on his pillow..." He laughed aloud. "He screamed like a girl when he woke up!"

Garrett glared at his brother, though before he could snap a retort, Merrill took a step back with yet larger eyes. "Why would you _do_ that!? If you knew he was scared of them, I mean..."

Garrett rolled his eyes. _Great, I'm being defended by an elf_... Bethany spoke up before either brother could reply though. "Oh that's nothing, when I was younger I used to braid my hair, he _loved_ to wake me up by nailing it to my bed..." She rolled her eyes, but shot Carver a gentle smile to take the sting out of her accusing words.

Merrill didn't seem to see the smile though, she only heard the words, and stared at Carver as if he were a three-headed horse. "I thought Garrett and Bethany were your siblings? Don't you... don't you like them?" She frowned, confused.

Carver shifted where he stood, now _clearly_ uncomfortable. "Well... of course I do. I don't know... I was young and it was... well... _funny_."

"Well..." Merrill smiled, a friendly and polite smile. "...I'm glad young you had fun at least."

The implication behind the friendly words seemed to make Carver shrink, the man looking ashamed as he turned his gaze aside, forcing a smile. "Erm... thank you..."

_Heh_... Somewhat amused by the turn of events, _especially_ by Carver essentially having ruined his chances of charming the blood-mage with his own words –_ I hope it stays that way_ – Garrett turned towards the cave and drew his by now somewhat worn sword. "Good, now that you two are done, maybe we can focus on retrieving our criminal." _And get the gold promised_. He began marching forward, feeling calm as he considered the opposition. _Large spiders aren't too bad, the tunnel will likely be too narrow for them to flank us unless we miss any in the ceiling, we'll do this slow and methodically, I think_. "Aveline, you coming?" _I better not look too close at their webs though, might be smaller ones there_... _not that I'm afraid, but still_...

"You try and stop me." The woman growled, ignoring the stares of her guardsmen as she marched past him and towards the cave.

_Heh_. Garrett eagerly followed.

8

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8

The large spider leapt at him.

Garrett's buckler – he still didn't find the small shield comfortable – met the creature though, smashing a metal rim into its many eyes, momentarily stunning it and knocking it down to the ground so it couldn't even _try_ to brush aside his thrusting sword. A crunch, and the now severely notched blade punched into its maw, tip exploding out the back of its head in a shower of viscera.

A moment later, he took a step back and jerked his blade free, his boot kicking aside the twitching insect as he prepared to face the next one.

The smaller spiders pulled back though, hissing at one another as the scrambled backwards.

Yet there was no escape, the chamber they had fled to ending with a door that had mould growing on it, yet was solid enough to withstand the scratching of the insects as they tried to flee.

Holding up his shield, Garrett halted the group's advance.

_So far so good_.

_But now though_...

There had been no sign of Kelder, forcing the group to move further in, past thick strands of spiderweb clinging to the walls, cutting some aside when it blocked their path, but generally cutting down spiders throwing themselves at the group.

The path had been narrow though, and Garrett had been attentive, twice having made Varric shoot down spiders from the ceiling waiting to pounce on them. Mostly it had been a grind though, Aveline and he had held the front with shield and sword while Carver had stood just behind them, using his longer blade more like a spear than a sword to impale any creature trying to get a bite in. Behind them, Varric had picked off those spiders trying to use the walls to attack from the side, and Bethany had let fire pour from her fingertips whenever a large group of insects opposed them... and spiders apparently did _not_ endure fire well. As to Merrill... so far she had hardly been needed, though after she had nearly _deafened_ them all – not to mentioned nearly made the cave collapse – by throwing what looked like a _lightning bolt_ from her staff, she had blushed and settled for magically sending great piles of stones into the odd spider, cracking their carapace like eggs or sending them flying back with hisses of pain and anger.

Still, there being no reason for her to prove herself was a _good_ thing, and Garrett wasn't about to complain at the thought of their grind finally coming to an end... though now he was conflicted as to what to do as the spiders turned back to face them, hissing in defiance as they waited for the group to advance.

"What now?" Aveline asked, thinking the same thing he was.

So far, the narrow cave had allowed their compact formation to crush anything in their path, the solid stone underneath gave good footing and the narrow corridor stopped the spiders from attacking them in any way that was an actual threat.

Yet ahead the cave widened to a broad chamber, brown dirt with some tufts of moss covering the ground making Garrett wonder just how reliable the footing would be... especially when facing the dozen remaining spiders.

"Fireball, maybe?" Garrett frowned, not liking his own suggestion. The heat would likely lash back at them in the cave, and the force of impact might well cause the somewhat brittle-looking walls to come down. "No, I don't like it."

"Well I don't like being flanked by a poisonous spider..." Aveline muttered back.

_Good point_. _Maybe Varric can simply pick them off? Though I bet they'd hide in those cracks in the walls then_...

Before them, the spiders hissed in defiance, sensing the group's hesitation to advance, though they were animals, they themselves didn't advance, instinct perhaps telling them they'd do best waiting.

"I can help." Merrill spoke up, though hesitantly. Garrett looked back her, frowning in anger. _I knew it, damn elven promises, no blood-magic, she says and then_- She put up her hands defensively, eyes wide. "No, no, nothing of... _that_... but I can keep them in place... well... _most_ of them..." _Huh_..._we'll_ _see_.

Still frowning, Garrett took a deep breath. "Very well... try."

Taking a step forward, coming up next to a curious-looking Carver, Merrill gripped her staff with both hands and pressed the point against the ground, lips moving in a low whisper, a shimmer of green energy coiling around the wood.

"What's '_that'_?" Aveline muttered, voice so low she had to lean closer to ask.

Garrett opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, he saw movement ahead.

The ground... it seemed to be... crawling, like the dirt was coming _alive_...

Then green vines shot out from under the ground, slim, yet twined like living rope, they appeared right under the spiders... and lashed on to them.

Hisses nearly like shrieks, six of the spiders were pulled down onto the ground, legs unable to push them up as vines gripped their carapace. Another two spun and jumped where they stood, several of their legs caught by the vines.

Seeing his chance, Garrett moved before even giving the word. "Now!"

He didn't need to say it twice.

Aveline met the charge of two of the free spiders, shield bashing one onto its back as another dodged her thrusting sword, only for the gauntlet holding the weapon to crash into the side of its head, sending it stumbling back and giving the woman the respite she needed to thrust the weapon into the stomach of the one she'd bashed with her shield.

The spider coming at Garrett skittered forward... and then stopped, shrieking as its forelegs clawed at its head, the remaining legs stumbling, as if it was drunk. Behind him, he barely heard Merrill's voice. "_Sleep_..."

"Let me help it with that!" Carver gleefully shouted as he ran into Garrett's path, greatsword coming down, separating both forelegs and head from the insect's body in one swing as the man himself turned his grin towards the elf.

_Bloody hell_! Not letting the man have his moment of impressing the elf, Garrett jumped forth and shoved the man back with his weapon-arm as the last free spider leapt for the man's neck. His weapon out of position from the shove, his shield equally so from his sudden advance, Garrett instead met the leaping creature with his boot.

A crunch, and the insect fell onto its back, carapace broken just underneath its mandibles, making green blood pour out as the spider's legs furiously kicked like crazy while a wailing hiss escaped it. It looked very much like its smaller counterparts when wounded, all random movements as it lost all coordination.

Garrett's foot, already raised from his kick, came down hard, ending its struggles by crushing its surprisingly soft skull.

"Thanks..." Garrett barely heard Carver's sheepish word, too furious with the fool to offer him even a glance. _Try and impress all you want during practice, but __never__ in combat_! _Father__ told you that_! _I've__ told you that_! Instead Garrett strode forward even as the spider Aveline had punched reeled back, a crossbow bolt deep in its body, its pained hiss ending quickly as another punched into its head.

Bethany, her hands aglow, strode past Garrett before he could put his sword to use on the still pinned spiders... and let flames spew forth, consuming all of them.

Eight spiders hissed and thrashed, the vines holding them smouldering, their carapace crumpling, eyes drying up in their skulls as their insides cooked, making a hissing sound that reminded Garrett of boiling crayfish...

And then it was over, Bethany lowering her hands with a grimace, nose wrinkling at the smell of burnt carapace – that Garrett thought smelled surprisingly much like burnt chicken – and then a little smile appeared on her lips. "Maker, that felt good..."

"What did?" Merrill asked, sounding perplexed even as Garrett grimly took stock.

_No one injured, nothing but maybe a bruise or two and all being a bit tired_... _and Carver deserving a good shouting at when we're back in the privacy of our home_.

"Oh just stretching my magical muscles, that's all..." Bethany admitted, sounding somewhat meek as Garrett sensed her sending him a guilty look.

Garrett was too angry about Carver's idiocy to care about Bethany enjoying being able to cast magic though, as long as she did it only when necessary, why would he be angry with her? So he ignored her look, as well as his brother's worried one – knowing he was in trouble – as the man got to his feet. Instead Garrett strode over the burnt spiders and towards the door, his mood dark as he struggled not to think of what could have happened if he hadn't shoved Carver aside. "Let's just get this over with."

Doing what the spiders couldn't, Garrett gripped the handle to the door and twisted it before pulling the door open.

Inside, old boards were covering the ground of a small chamber, the stone walls nearly covered with white candles in various states of being melted, though enough were lit to properly light the room. At the far end, a simple bed, its covers rumpled from use, stood, a small table standing next to it, a few bloodied knives strewn over it.

The room smelled of mould and blood... and Garrett, paling, saw why it smelled of the later.

The man on his knees in the middle of the room could be none but Kelder, though the son of a noble, he wore nothing but a pair of leather trousers. His bare chest was pale, every bone in his chest and arms showing clearly under his skin, yet there were also cords of twitching muscles, as if he was having a seizure.

In his arms, the naked hostage lay.

The elven girl couldn't have been more than fifteen, her skin even paler than the man's, starkly contrasting the red lines where the knives had cut into her. _So many cuts_... Her skin had been peeled back in places, making her seem like a patchwork, like a doll not yet finished. Yet for all those wounds, Garrett noticed the dark bruise over her neck, the marks of large hands, the way her windpipe seemed to have... vanished.

"Sh-she was s-so _beautiful_..." The man stuttered, his voice a whisper. "..._too_ beautiful..." He didn't looked up, he simply shook back and forth where he knelt, his victim in his arms. "...th-the d-demons made me... Ma-Maker...d-deliver me f-from sin..."

"_Maker_...!" Bethany gasped, then her feet thumped against the ground as she stepped away, the sound of her retching following a moment later.

"Wh-what...?" Merrill asked, the rest of the question never coming.

"D-deliver m-me fr-from si-sin..."

"You want the Maker, eh!?" Carver exploded, the man making Aveline curse as he pushed past the frozen woman and a pale Varric. Garrett's brother raised his greatsword, advancing with large steps. "I'll take you to him!" His sword rose-

"No!" Garrett stepped forward, shield deflecting the blow that would have split Kelder in two, though the man didn't even seem to notice as he remained where he was, staring at the elf as if she was the only one in the room.

"What are you doing!?" Carver snarled at Garrett, rage in his eyes. "Don't you see-!"

"I see perfectly fine!" Garrett snapped back, glaring back as he moved closer until all he could see was his brothers eyes. "I see our charge, the one we're going to bring _back_ to Kirkwall."

"You can't be serious!"

"I'm perfectly serious." Garrett growled back. "Now... step back."

Silence.

Then Carver, deflecting his gaze, stepped back, snorted, and marched out of the room in a huff, heading for his still retching sister.

Garrett, staring at the man's angry posture as he moved to comfort Bethany, sighed. _I wish I could take the easy way like you so often want_... As if hearing his thought, Aveline spoke up. "Are you _sure_ about this, Hawke?" The look she gave him...Garrett found himself taking a deep breath at the sight.

Yet he calmly looked back, nodding. "Yes, I don't intend to make an enemy out of a _Magistrate_, nor _murder_ someone when I can help it... I'm law-abiding now, remember?"

Snorting, the woman glanced down at the man still holding the butchered elf. "I could look the other way, if you want..." Then, she sighed, reluctantly nodding. "...but I guess you're right. Andraste's knickers though, I don't like this..."

"Who said it's about liking it?" Garrett asked, to which Aveline could only shake her head in weary agreement as she turned to walk over to Bethany and Carver.

Varric was still staring at the scene in front of him along with Merrill though, the former finally speaking up. "Damn, I heard he did these things to them, but seeing it in person... damn... you sure...?" Garrett frowned. "...right, take him with us, we'll do that."

Merrill, blinking furiously, turned her gaze to Varric, lips trembling. "Yo-you mean he do-does this a _lot_?"

The dwarf shrugged. "Elven girls, yes, it's his... ahem...t hing. This is his... eleventh, or so rumours say."

"_Eleventh_!?" Merrill shouted in horror, eyes wide.

"So pretty..." Glancing down, Garrett found Kelder having dropped the girl in his arms, eyes large as he looked up at Merrill. "...th-the de-demons want-"

Garrett found the back of his hand come down before he could stop himself, the disgust of what he'd seen finally getting the better of him. A crack, and the gauntlet of his hand smashed the side of Kelder's head, making him whimper as he collapsed onto his side, seemingly broken and harmless. _Bet the girl thought so too_... _damn_ _psychopath_...

"You...you can't that _thing_ live..." Merrill's lips were trembling, the elf looking down at Kelder with horror. "H-he'll kill again and _again_..."

"He'll be locked up, in prison." Garrett stoically replied. _Huh, figured I'd have more of a fight with Carver than this meek one_...

"He got _out_ of prison." Merrill pointed out, a heat in her words, she looked up at him, eyes wide, tears in their corners. "And then he'll do it _again_... I... I know the Magistrate just wants to protect his son... b-but you have to think of the _cla_... I mean people in the city."

"Maybe, we can't know that." Garrett replied, frowning in annoyance.

"B-but think if he came and hurt _your_ family..." Merrill replied, sounding hurt.

"He won't." Garrett calmly answered, confident in that, at least.

"Of course not, he kills _elves_." Again, the heat returned, Merrill's brows furrowing in anger. "Yo-you think you're better than elves?" _Me_? _So far I've met no better_..._blood_-_mage_. "I th-thought...the others in the clan exaggerated about the shem...the _humans_..."

Garrett growled, stepping closer and jabbing a finger in Merrill's direction. "_Shemlen_, eh? Don't say that and then accuse _me_ of racism, this isn't about elves _or_ humans."

"S-sorry, but it sure _seems_ that way!" Merrill replied, a tremble in her voice even as she crossed her arms over her chest, not giving ground. "Elves are dying, s-so you do _nothing_, I th-thought Varric said you were he-_helping_ people..."

"I do, within my _limits_." Garrett snapped back. "This isn't a charity, elf. I do this for the money to help my family and keep them safe, _nothing_ else. If I can help others without it endangering my family, _fine_, but I won't risk those closest to me."

"Th-that's so..._selfish_." Merrill replied, eyes widening even more, hesitant. "Wh-what about ev-everyone else? Wh-what of th-those that he'll k-kill...?"

"You can't know he will get the chance again." Garrett growled, now seriously annoyed with the elf. _Carver might disagree with me, but he bloody obeys when the one in charge gives an order_! "But I _know_ that he'll _never_ harm any in my family. I _know_ that if I kill him here, the Magistrate _will_ be suspicious. I _know_ that I'm but a _bug_ to him, and that he'll not _hesitate_ to ruin us if he thinks us responsible for his son's death."

"B-but m-more might di-die if you _do_-_don't_..."

"I. Don't. Care." Garrett growled, moving closer, glaring down at the elf...that finally shirked back a bit. "You might want to do what's best to your...clan...but you try to do that for a city of a _million_ and you'll end up with _nothing_. People will _use_ you, they'll _exploit_ you and they'll _hurt_ you, if you don't act with your _own_ interest at heart."

"Th-that's..." Merrill swallowed, looking horrified as she took a step back. "...s-so _sad_..."

"It's _reality_." Garrett grunted, satisfied the elf was sufficiently cowed as he turned and grabbed Kelder by the arm, hoisting the trembling man to his feet. "Come here now, and don't even _think_ to make trouble." Wrenching the man's arm behind his back, Garrett began pushing him towards the door.

He spared the lost-looking Merrill an annoyed glare though. "Welcome to Kirkwall."

8

8

8

_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for climbing mountains for me._


	25. Chapter 25

"You lied to me!" Merrill gasped, horrified by the treachery._ I thought we were friends_...

Bethany, currently off getting them something the humans called 'ale' from the tavern keeper, had introduced Merrill to the other human woman a few days ago, and Merrill had to admit she'd found herself quite taken with the other woman.

Despite what _Garrett_ might have insinuated, Merrill was _not_ an elf who had judged humans differently from elves. Sure, she'd not seen too many of them during her travels, and their size was somewhat intimidating, especially with all those stories of their murdering of elves with the loss of the Dales. But Merrill liked to see the good in everyone, no matter who they were... and surely if a person was good, that was all that mattered?

Not that there weren't bad people, or at least those sick in some way. That man Garrett had taken from the cave had been one such person. Like a rabid animal, the only merciful thing for him, and to those around him, would have been to put him down. _I know he __meant__ well, well_... _sort of_... _but not caring about others like that is not very nice_.

Though while her... Keeper, she guessed he was, he was in charge, anyway... didn't seem all that pleasant, his friends had been very nice.

_Well_... _most_ _of_ _them_... _sort of_.

Anders was scary, and always so _serious_... and while Merrill _did_ like the idea of befriending a fellow elf in their 'group', Fenris seemed _angry_ with her for some reason. Carver was a bit... odd. She wasn't really sure what to make of him, though he seemed to have been a cruel child, which was a bit worrying. _He wouldn't nail me like he did Bethany, would he_?

Aveline seemed nice though, very busy and very... to the point... but at least she seemed like the helpful sort, and she _was_ a Guard, they protected people, right? Varric had gotten her a _house_, a house filled with rats and smelling of dank cheese, but a house none the less... and he was very kind and generous. Merrill honestly didn't understand why the man seemed to enjoy Garrett's company. Bethany was also very kind and generous with what she had... though perhaps a bit sad, as if she was constantly troubled by something.

As for Isabela...

The curvy Rivaini had instantly made Merrill smile when Bethany introduced them. There was something disarming with the dark-skinned woman's white smile, and the way she handled over a dozen admirers at the Hanged Man was to Merrill – who still blushed furiously when she thought of the one elf back in her clan who'd tried to court her until her stumbling words had turned him off – an inspiration of how _anyone_ would want to be. Confident, beautiful, friendly, _adventurous_...s he was the woman Merrill could only _dream_ of being... minus the human part, Merrill was Dalish to the bones, that she wouldn't change.

And Isabela seemed to like _her_! Merrill, the little soft-spoken mage who didn't know how to make friends or to do _anything_ people in the cities seemed to take for granted! Merrill had been very glad for that.

Except now Isabela had _lied_ to her... and Merrill felt lost as she sat by their crudely made table.

Cocking her head to the side, the pirate-queen smiled at her, a smile cracking into a grin as Merrill stared back in confusion. "It's called _bluffing_, kitten. Surely you've played games where you tricked one another back in your clan?" She gestured at her cards at the table, three knights and a tower, far stronger than Merrill's own collection of merchants.

Merrill blinked. "Well...t here _was_ 'find the clam'...if you lied about having it, you could still win..." Merrill didn't knew the specifics though. Stuck studying for and assisting Marethari, there had been little time for games with the other children... not that many would have wanted to play with her anyway. "So this was... bluffing then?"

"Yes, a fancy way of saying lying, I guess, but not meant to hurt." Isabela patted Merrill's hand, and as she withdrew her own, she swept Merrill's cards along, mixing them with her own and putting them back into the deck in one fluid movement. _How does she even __do__ that_? Isabela seemed oblivious to Merrill staring in amazement at her deft shuffling though, her smile never fading as she spoke. "Now, another game?" She glanced down, noticing the pile of pebbles they had used were all on her side... _again_. "Oh right, better divide these, Merrill, would you?"

"Sure!" Merrill was eager to learn the game after all, though wondered if she would ever get any good at it... Isabela trounced her every time. "So this is how you earn money?" She'd seen Isabela beat various sailors at card before, and those times, she hadn't gotten a pile of _pebbles_ for it.

The pile Merrill had pulled to herself was accidentally larger than the one she left with Isabela, but the pirate didn't seem to mind as she continued shuffling – _she could probably beat me with only one pebble anyway_ – while glancing left and right at their surroundings. "Cards, dice, the odd job with our friend Garrett. Enough to have a bed and drinks, yes... Maker knows how I'll afford a ship though, I spend the coin as quickly as I earn it."

Following Isabela's gaze, Merrill smiled at their surroundings. Sure, it was a _bit_ scary with all the loud and drunk humans around her... but they all seemed very _happy_, and she had Isabela and Bethany with her, who were more apt at handling the odd drunkard trying to join them. Over by the counter, she saw Bethany trying to press herself past a pair of men at their drinks and speak to the bartender... and then move further away with an annoyed frown when one of them gave her a toothy grin. _Why wouldn't she like someone smiling at her_? _Humans have odd customs_... "Oh I'm sure you'll get your ship. Maybe you can spend less money on ale so you can afford it?"

"Awww, that's an _adorable_ sentiment." Isabela ceased her shuffling to reach out and ruffle Merrill's hair, smile wide. "A ship is a bit expensive, Kitten. I'm sure saving the coin from ale would _help_, but not much." A roll of her eyes. "Besides, if I have to stay in this city instead of on a ship _and_ without a drink now and then... well I'd probably kill myself." Merrill gasped, hands coming up to cover her mouth, drawing a chuckle out of the curvier woman. "That was a joke, Merrill." _Oh_. Merrill grimaced, feeling foolish. _I need to start learning human humour_... _what I wouldn't give for a good book on the subject_...

"Okay, but can you still afford bread with all of this 'ale' you like?" Merrill watched Isabela effortlessly divide the cards between them, the little pieces of paper seemingly flying between the two of them... it was a wonder they never fluttered away or landed with the wrong side up... or so it seemed to Merrill.

"Of course, it's not expensive, you've seen my winnings at dice, haven't you?"

"Well...yes..." Merrill replied, frowning as she shifted in her seat. "But I saw you spend most of that in the _bar_... I mean I bought a loaf of bread for a silver and-"

"A _silver_!?" Isabela exploded, stopping her dealing of cards to stare at Merrill in wonder. "You spent a... do you know you're supposed to _barter_, kitten!?"

Merrill turned crimson, shuffling even more in her seat. "Well yes, Garrett told me about it, and I _did_... sort of... but he raised his voice, so I figured I'd bartered _too_ much and... well..."

"Well, that's a lesson learnt, there's _never_ too much bartering involved with those snakes at the market." Isabela offered a reassuring smile and finished dealing their cards. "I'll go with you next time, show you how it's done, how about that?"

"Oh I'd _love_ that!" Merrill cried, grinning back. _Ancestors, she's so nice, I don't know why Garrett doesn't like her, though I suppose he's a bit of a grump_... She pulled her cards up, eyeing them and trying to recollect the combinations Isabela had told her about. "You're so nice." _Two peasants, a wall and a joker_... _could I switch the joker and hope for a peasant_? _That would make a village, I think_...

"It's nothing, girl." Isabela chuckled, eyes twinkling with amusement as she eyed Merrill, seemingly not even _glancing_ at the cards in her hands. _Why is she staring_? _Do I have something on my nose_? _Can she see what cards I have_? _Is she looking for my_... _what_ _did_ _she_ _call_ _it_... _my_ '_tell_'? _I don't understand, I haven't told her anything_...

Before Merrill could put down her card though – _oh right, I'm supposed to bet a pebble first_ – there was a creak as the door to the Hanged Man opened, making both players look over in time to see Garrett and Varric enter.

They couldn't be more diametric.

Varric was naturally short, and though broad, it wasn't enough to make him seem anything but _small_. He walked like a giant though, all confidence, a smile on his lips and hands casually in the pockets of his beautiful leather coat. As he moved towards the back of the tavern, people called out to him, and he called back, grinning at people, greeting them... his smile wide, welcoming _all_, Merrill and Isabela in their corner receiving a _warm_ one.

Garrett, on the other hand, was _tall_, only shorter than perhaps Carver, and since he was broader than Varric, he looked _huge_ to the reed-thin Merrill's eyes. Yet his walk was a wary one, his clothes a ragged tunic and trousers that once might have been yellow, his hand never straying far from his sword. None called out a greeting to _him_, and with the grim look on his face, who could blame them? He noticed Merrill and Isabela in their corner though, and offered a curt nod, polite, but _cold_.

As the two disappeared into the back of the tavern, Isabela snorted, looking back to her cards. "If I didn't know better I'd say that Garrett needed to get laid, but what woman would want to touch something so cold?"

Blushing – she still couldn't handle Isabela's speech, so full of sexual references, all that well - Merrill tried a pale smile. "Oh I'm sure he has a reason for looking so grim all the time..."

"Yeah, you get like that with a stick shoved up your arse." Isabela snorted, pushing two pebbles into the space between them, eyes now on her cards and her smile replaced by a frown. "All about family, duty, family, work, family, money... oh, and _family_. Hell, didn't he let that psychopathic elf-murderer _go_? I mean, who _does_ that after you've seen what you described?"

Merrill shuddered, she'd lost several nights of sleep reliving the memory of the sight of the dead little girl. "Well he _did_ have reasons... I... well... and the killer's in prison now, right?" Merrill grimaced, she wasn't sure why she was defending the man, but as usual, she was trying to see the positives in people. "I don't _liiike_ it... but I don't know how Kirkwall is... so..." She shrugged, uncomfortable with the subject. She bit her lower lip, then let the words come. "Though back in my clan, we would never have let him go like that..."

"_Exactly_, but our grim little Hawke doesn't think like that." _Erm_... _he's anything but little_... Isabela nodded at Merrill pushing forth two pebbles to match her wager, then put down two cards on the table and drew two new from the stack. "If it doesn't concern his family, it doesn't matter."

"Well...yes..." Merrill admitted. She couldn't claim to know the man, but it sure seemed like Isabela had a point. "...it's a bit...selfish?" She put down her joker and drew a new card, frowning at the tree she got.

A snort. "That's _one_ way to put it, I'd call it immoral... and that's coming from _me_." A chuckle escaped Isabela as she pushed another three pebbles into the pot, only for her to chuckle again as Merrill put her cards down on the table, her hands quickly scooping up her winnings. "You're still telling me what you have, kitten." Merrill frowned, confused. _I'll never get this_... "Anyway, he's a dick, doesn't know how to live, and all that, you'd have to go to the _Chantry_ to find someone more-"

"You're being unfair." Merrill blushed furiously as she jumped in her seat, finding Bethany having snuck up on them with three glasses of yellow liquid in her hands. Putting the glasses down, the mage pulled out her chair and sat down before distributing the ale between the three of them, frowning at the table and seemingly oblivious to Merrill's shame. "My brother might make... _questionable_ decisions, but he's not a bad man, nor a... _dick_." Like Merrill, Bethany grimaced at the word.

"Am I?" In contrast to Merrill, Isabela seemed not the least bit ashamed of being caught badmouthing Bethany's brother. _By the gods, if I could be as confident and calm as you. _ The Rivaini was looking at Bethany, apparently ready to hear the mage's argument... or maybe she was just being polite since the other woman had bought the ale? Either way, the Rivaini drained half her glass with one mighty swig. "Hit me." She glanced at Merrill. "I mean... tell me what you mean."

_Okay, so this is ale_... Merrill hadn't dared try it so far, despite Isabela's urgings. _It kind of looks like pee_... Merrill's gut tightened at the thought as the stared at the glass in front of her.

"My brother was seventeen when our father died." Bethany began, still looking down at the table, her slender fingers tracing the marks in the table left by previous users. "The hour after that, he was in charge of the family... he... he barely allowed himself to grieve, though I heard him cry in bed at nights." She looked up at that, looking a little ashamed of telling them, making Merrill give a trembling smile as Isabela cocked a doubtful eyebrow. "Sorry, I... shouldn't have said that."

_At seventeen_...? Merrill tried to imagine being in charge of the clan at that age... at doing that now... and felt terror squeeze her chest. Isabela shrugged. "Don't worry, that's nothing to tease the guy about, go ahead, I'm all ears until my glass is empty." Judging by what remained, that wasn't long.

Sighing, Bethany shrugged, gaze moving up to the ceiling, as if unwilling to look at the women she was speaking to. "Even before that, he was so serious... you must understand, he and father... they were our protectors when we were out on the road, keeping us... _me_... safe from Templars..." A grimace. "Father was so afraid of them finding me, of losing the family he'd made... and I think my brother picked up on that, he made it his own job to keep us safe, because he was the eldest, because he loves us." A soft shake of her head, a look on guilt on her face. "While other boys began to take interests in girls, my brother was chasing off wolves with a torch and fighting bandits in the forest to keep us safe." A deep breath. "While others had fun together in Lothering, he was coming home to watch over me and mother, carving things to sell at the market so we could make a little more money."

_Oh_... Merrill looked down at her hands, feeling ashamed for having judged him so harshly. _That sounds like a heavy burden_. Isabela yawned though. "So he's a good brother and has a reason for being like he is, that doesn't change that he's got a stick up his bum." Looking up, Merrill found Bethany glaring at an amused-looking Isabela. "Does he even know _how_ to smile? Or does his face crack if he tries?"

Though she looked annoyed, a small giggle escaped Bethany at the question. "Yes, yes he does, it's just... rare."

"Oh, like if you..." Merrill started, then blinked. "...actually I have no idea what would make him smile."

"You and me both!" Isabela agreed with a laugh , then smirked as she leant over the table, nearly making her breasts fall out of her tunic. "Now, _why_ aren't you having any of your-"

"E-excuse me..." The three women looked up at the new voice, Merrill's eyes widening at the sight of a worn-looking elf standing before them. Her ragged clothes suggested she was an Alienage elf, yet the tattoo on her face... it was the tattoo of Ghilan'nain, the Mother of the Halla, marking her as one of the people. The elf was staring back at her too...a nd a look of shame crossed her face as she put a hand over her forehead. "...I... are you friends of... H-Hawke?"

Merrill could only stare at the other elf. _What are you doing here_...? The style of the Tattoo... it reminded Merrill of her own clan's, though judging by the age of the elf, maybe her leaving had been before Merrill's time, she hadn't always been with her current clan, after all.

"That's one word for it." Isabela snorted.

Bethany was quick to speak up though, smiling gently. "I'm his sister, what can I do for you?"

"I... I'd like his help..." The woman swallowed, shooting Merrill a nervous glance before looking back to Bethany. "W-with my s-_son_..." Again, she shot Merrill a glance.

Merrill paled. _White skin, torn open, neck in ruins_... "I'm... not sure if he'd help you...he's not a helper of elves, I think..."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" Bethany glowered at Merrill, making her shirk back in worry...t hough she wasn't about to apologise, she still found Garrett brushing aside the threat Kelder posed to elves as... distasteful. "He's not..." A deep breath, Bethany averting her gaze, making Isabela cock an eyebrow. "...he's not _like_ that."

"E-either way doesn't matter..." The elf standing next to them replied, glancing at Merrill once more before continuing. "...he's _human_..."

_Oh_. Merrill grimaced. _Meaning she mated with a human, meaning she forgot the way of the Dalish, meaning we cast her and her child out_... Her grimace turned into a crimson blush. _And I accused __Garrett__ of racism_... _no, a poor custom of my people doesn't make them or me racist, we __must do what we can to keep our numbers up_. "I... see."

As if struck, the elf shirked away from Merrill, head now downcast, looking ashamed. _I'm not angry with you for fathering a child_... Merrill didn't dare say it though, nor offer any sort of comfort, too uncomfortable and embarrassed by the situation. Isabela though, shrugging aside the tension with nary a grimace, spoke swiftly. "Well, either way it still depends on if he's _paid_, I do believe he claims _not_ to be a charity."

Merrill grimaced at that. _If his reality is not to help people if they can't pay you_... _I don't' want to be part of it_. In answer, her stomach growled._ Yet I need to eat_...

The woman nodded though, eagerly so. "I have money, a little at least, probably enough to make him _look_... it's all I ask..." Her tone was _pleading_, desperate... and Merrill's heart ached for her.

"Of course, I understand." Bethany did what Merrill could not, reaching out to brush the woman's shoulder with a kind look on her face. "Go to the back he's there with a dwarf, they'll help you out, I'm sure."

"Thank you... _so_ _much_..." The mother said, backing away and bowing as if the three women at the table were Keepers... and then she eagerly turned and marched for the back of the tavern, steps swift and hurried.

"Huh, wonder if the man will deem the payment worth it. Alienage elves usually don't have much." Isabela mused, making Merrill and Bethany both grimace, neither particularly liking the idea of the desperate woman not getting any help. "What was with those tattoos though? Weren't they Dalish? You know her, Merrill?"

_They mean she was in the clan, then no longer, because she lay with a human, because she made our people weaker by birthing a human instead of a Dalish, and will never be accepted back until she leaves the child behind_. Merrill stared at the table. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Well... okay then."

The silences stretched between them.

Then Isabela spoke up again, a grin in her voice. "Anyway... let's make a woman out of you, Merrill." _Wh_-_what_!? Merrill went crimson. "Time for you to have your first ale." _Oh, whew_... _wait_, _that_ _stuff_? Merrill looked up at the glass before her, one eye narrowed, suspicious of the amber liquid held in what seemed to be a badly cleaned glass. "Oh don't give it that look, that's rude, drink it instead!"

Merrill looked to Bethany for help, but the other mage simply grinned at her. "Go ahead, Isabela's right, it's time." A little smirk. "Plus, I want to see what you think..."

"O-okay..." Merrill gripped the glass hesitantly, lifting the somewhat heavy glass and eyeing the drink with a hint of curiosity.

"Take a big gulp, like a big girl." Isabela advised, the pirate all smiles.

A deep breath...and Merrill nodded before bringing the glass up to her lips. Following Isabela's advice, she took a deep gulp, letting the liquid pour down her throat before filling her mouth when her throat sealedshut as the taste finally reached her_._ _Ewwwww_!

Slamming the glass back down, Merrill's body spasmed on instinct, spitting out the large mouthful of ale in her mouth.

All over Isabela.

The tavern went silent.

Merrill, eyes wide, felt a flush creep down from her ears and up her neck, slowly engulfing her face.

Before her, Isabela was staring back with equally large eyes, ale dripping from her hair and sliding down her face, staining her tunic as it soaked into the white cloth.

Then, the pirate leant back in her chair, reared her head back, and laughed.

Loudly.

A moment later Bethany followed.

Then the rest of the tavern.

Merrill, still red like a strawberry, pulled her shoulders up to hide her face as best she could while hiding her fiddling hands in her lap, shyly smiling as she struggled to contain her embarrassment. Her voice, a shy whisper, was lost in the roars of laughter. "Sorry..."

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for being such an immense help._


	26. Chapter 26

"So _why_ are we doing this again?"

Isabela glanced at Carver, then rolled her eyes, not sure if the man was stupid or simply not realising how complaining about their current task was a sure way to lose points with Merrill. _Though I guess those two aren't mutually exclusive_...

Not that Isabela didn't mind a bit of stupidity, at least not in men, but it was kind of sad to see the man dig himself deeper and deeper. Other than that he was a fine young man though, tall, dark and handsome were always good traits for a man. And though Carver was still something of a stubborn boy with too much pigheaded defiance in him, Isabela figured that he would turn into a fine man if allowed to grow up and mature with some loose reins._ And what a man he'll make then, mmm_...

He could do without his brother lording over him though, be allowed to make some mistakes and own up to them himself, not that Garrett would allow that Isabela figured as she watched the older Hawke shoot Carver a tired look. Not that she deemed him loosening his hold likely, the older Hawke seemed to be a control freak, not one who valued true freedom or what it might bring with it_. Just another man with a 'plan', always with the bloody plans_..._why plan for the future when you can __live_?

In the end though, Garrett didn't reply, and continued to march on, making the rest of them follow like a pack of dogs...which was an apt comparison considering one of them _was_ a dog.

It was night in Kirkwall and they were in the industrial area of Lowtown, meaning they were walking under various shadows cast by the towering and somewhat jagged buildings containing all from smithies to bordellos, all of course of poorer quality. Keeping them close to the right of the street, Garrett was leading them on with surprising confidence considering Isabela didn't think he actually knew _where_ their target was. She understood keeping to the walls though, Lowtown wasn't a safe place at night, and though they were all capable, the man was obviously one who didn't like inviting trouble if he could help it. _Not that that seems to help, we seem to find him_. Isabela smirked at the thought.

The group would have made a funny picture for anyone watching though. While an armed group was the rule rather than the exception in Lowtown, it was not often they contained an elf, a Rivaini, a Dwarf and a Mabari...not to mention a man looking like he was the worst shaver in the world.

Hooded and cloaked in black though, Anders might as well have been another shadow as he walked between her and the Hawke brothers. With his staff and slightly hunched walk, he looked like an old man rather than a fearsome mage possessed by some goodie-two-shoe demon. Next to him, Maric silently trotted. Isabela almost found the hound more curious than the mage, Mabari were amazing dogs in size and intellect, but never had Isabela seen one so..._silent_, it was as if the dog was always in thought. _Heh, maybe a deeper thinker than our precious elf-lover_?

As if taking her thought as his cue, Carver continued with his usual questioning. "And I don't think Bethany liked being left out, she would have liked to help, brother." Isabela gave a little nod in agreement, the young woman had been quite adamant in her wish to help the elf woman with her son...though if she had been stubborn as a mule, Garrett had been stubborn as a _wall_...and in the end the young woman had given up. "And I _still_ don't see the point with this, she's hardly paying us." Isabela sighed, glancing at Merrill to her right and finding a small pout on the elf's mouth, as if she was struggling not to speak up. _And there he goes at it again, maybe I should just give him a shovel for his birthday_...?

Merrill was the only reason Isabela was there. So kind and innocent, Isabela saw herself in the woman from a time best left forgotten...and as such she felt protective of the poor girl, wanting to keep _her_ innocence intact, at least. So while she normally would have asked for payment to hang around as an extra blade in case things got hairy, Isabela had somehow found herself volunteering her help to Garrett, surprising them both as those large eyes of the elf looked on with a big smile on her lips.

Isabela sensed Varric felt largely the same way – why else get the girl he barely knew a house – about helping the innocent little girl. Shooting the dwarf on her left side a glance and finding the dwarf offering the elf a kind smile before speaking up, Isabela knew she was onto something. "Well we can't always get the big hauls, small ones are good too, plus we get to be _heroes_, that's always fun."

"The day my brother acts the hero, is the day I eat your coat, Varric." Carver chuckled back, then frowned as he looked back to Garrett. "No, really, why are we here? And why bring _me_ instead of Bethany, since _she_ was the one wanting to go?" _Ah, there's the source of complaints_..._yeah, I guess I wanted to stay at the Hanged Man too_..._damn those big eyes_... Isabela shot Merrill another smile, it was a long time since she'd warmed up to someone so quickly, save perhaps Varric.

A sigh escaped their leader, one telling Isabela the man had held similar conversations with his brother all too many times. _All the more reason to let him loose a bit, the tighter you hold on, the more he'll struggle against you_..._I don't understand how some don't get this_. "I wanted an extra blade with me, just in case, which means you instead of Fenris, since, as you said, she's paying us precious little. As for not bringing Bethany...I do not wish her to be involved in deals such as this, if it didn't escape your notice, it was a _Templar_ we spoke to a couple of hours ago."

Isabela contained a little chuckle at the way Carver grumbled at the argument, yet the boy apparently wasn't done, and kept on digging his grave. _At least he gets an 'A' for effort_... "A mage-_friendly_ Templar, if I've ever seen one, why else point us in the right direction?"

"Just because he's friendly, doesn't mean he won't do his duty if faced with a mage unable to hide her identity due to her being nervous. I thought it enough a risk to keep Merrill and Anders at a distance as it was." Garrett pointed out in that annoyingly patient voice, making Isabela groan inwardly. The man was so calm and _reasonable_...it didn't surprise her that Carver found it annoying, his brother hardly seemed _human_ at times and just rubbed Isabela the wrong way._ Which is a feat in itself when it comes to me_... "As to why we're doing this...firstly, there's no harm in just looking when we have precious few jobs going right now. Secondly, must I _really_ explain to _you_ how horrible it must feel to have a relative as a mage leaving with people with Maker knows what intentions...?"

_Sympathy_? _From __this_ _Hawke_? _Do_ _I_ _have_ _a_ _fever_? _Oh, or is this one of those stupid 'protect the many and therefore protect yourself' arguments_? _I better not ask, I've had enough of his lectures_..._a lecture not involving a ruler or whip is no fun_.

"It's very nice of you to help her." Merrill chimed in, voice surprisingly loud in the abandoned street, making her face darken in a blush that no one but Isabela and Varric seemed to notice. "I'm glad we're doing this." The blush deepened a bit, no doubt the elf remembered her doubtful words of Garrett helping an elf, implying just a hint of racism. _Though to be fair we're looking for a human and a mage_..._meh_, _who cares_? _People are people_,_ I'm sure both I and Garrett even agree on that_.

Carver coughed, looking back at the elf with a look half-panicked and half-desiring. "Well _yes_, me too, I'm just...erm..."_ Backpedal faster, boy_. Isabela struggled not to grin, then shrugged and did it anyway, earning herself a quick glare from Hawke. "...I'm just..._surprised_ my brother agreed to do this, he's not big on being generous to others like me and Bethany." _Oh, good idea to add your sister to the answer, makes it seem less of a cover-up_...

Merrill apparently didn't catch the blatant attempt at back-pedalling though, her smile genuine as she cocked her head to the side. "Oh I think you're all very nice when it comes down to it, you all helped me, after all."

Garrett glanced back, eyebrow arched and a doubtful look on his face, seemingly scrutinizing Merrill for some kind of joke or falsehood. But if the elf was even _capable_ of it, it didn't show in her face. A grunt, and the man returned to looking ahead, shoulders bunched high. _Tightly wound arse, aren't you_...? "I'm generous when I _can _be, brother, we'll do this as long as there's little risk to us, am I clear?"

"Crystal." Carver grunted, then glanced back, giving Merrill a significant 'told you so' look.

_Right, like she'd fall for that_... Isabela glanced to the side, and sighed as she found Merrill smiling back at him while shooting Garrett a slightly reproachful look. _Bloody hell, I'd better keep an eye on you, kitten_...

Noticing her sigh though, the elf leaned closer, looking curious. "What is it, Isabela? You look annoyed."

Varric chuckled at that, making Isabela blink. _Huh, I must have lowered my poker-face there_... She leant closer to the elf, making Merrill's eyes bulge. _What, afraid I'd kiss you_?_ Maker knows I sleep with many, but how could I do that with something so_..._pure_? _It would be like diddling a priest_. Isabela kept her voice low, a gentle whisper. "I'm just surprised you took Carver's words seriously..."

The elf stared at her, confused. "Why wouldn't I?"

_Oh for_... "Because he _obviously_ wants into your trousers..."

For a moment, the elf just stared at her blankly, then her nose crinkled in a frown as she looked down at her chainmail and dress-like coat. "But...I'm not _wearing_ any trousers..." Isabela squeezed her eyes shut and stifled an amused groan as Varric's chuckle grew louder. "...plus, I don't think they'd fit him if I had any." Varric's chuckle turned into a chortling. "What's so funny? I'm just not big enough..."

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Isabela found a laugh escape her before she could bite her lower lip. Then, taking a deep breath as Varric's chuckle died down, she managed to open her eyes and give Merrill an even look as she put a lid on her amusement. "It's not really important, I'll try to explain later."

"Oh _thank_ _you_!" Merrill grinned, confusion replaced by delight within the blink of an eye. "I know very little about human behaviour and culture, I _really_ want to learn more though, it's funny to compare with the Dalish ways!"

_Hmmm_..._not a bad idea, comparing_... "So...there's lots of Dalish men back in your clan, right?"

"Be quiet, you two." Garrett stopped Merrill from replying with a curt snap, the look he was shooting them a mix of annoyance and curiosity before he blinked, washing it away and replacing it with that annoying neutral look he seemed to favour. "I think I see him, let's approach him openly. Isabela, that means no hands near your weapons, we're here to _talk_."

Giving him a wide-eyed and innocent look, Isabela raised her open hands over her head, tone teasing. "Do you see any weapon on me?" A smirk. "Want to search me?" _You'd only find two strapped to my back, a small one in my hair, a pair in my boots_..._and maybe even the one hidden down my blouse if you're thorough_... Isabela didn't much care for the man, but resentful sex could sometimes be fun, not that she expected anything out of her teasing, it was just good old fun.

Not that Garrett saw it like that, he frowned at her, annoyed, and then without another word looked back to where he was going and stepped into the middle of the street, choosing to ignore her. _That's gratitude, here I am, watching his back, giving friendly offers, and he barely tolerates me_... Isabela snorted, then smirked._ At least it's a nice back_. She followed the man's movements with her gaze; they were confident steps of a man in his prime, making her smirk grow wider.

Of course, Anders swiftly broke her line of sight with his dark cloak, the mage's voice dry but holding a hint of happiness. "I'm glad you came to me, Hawke, I'll gladly help a fellow mage."

"I figured you would." The leading man replied, not even turning his head as he moved towards a shape crouched down in a corner ahead. Raising his voice, Garrett made the man visibly twitch. "Samson?" From behind a shaggy beard and hair that looked like a stack of black hay, a pair of large eyes glinted as they turned to stare at the approaching group. "I wish to speak to you."

"Who says I'm this Samson...?" The man replied, dusting his hands off as he rose into a stooped stance, the pile of refuse he'd been digging in forgotten.

_Eugh, what's that smell? I've smelled beggars before, but this one is just_..._it's_ _foul_! Deciding she was near enough, Isabela came to a stop over a dozen feet away from the man, grimacing, and she wasn't alone. Merrill, alternating between looking pale and green, stood nearby, biting her lips as her nose twitched again and again. Varric too had come to a stop, though the man looked like nothing was amiss as he pulled off his gloves and began examining his fingernails. Carver had moved to follow Garrett, but now seemed to regret his decision as he backed off, trying to look inconspicuous as he moved to stand next to Merrill, giving her a friendly smile.

Isabela rolled her eyes. _How romantic_...

Garrett and Anders moved closer though, neither looking fazed by a stench that had to be even worse than the one Isabela was enduring. To Isabela's surprise, Maric also moved closer. _Aren't dogs supposed to have keener sense of smell than humans_? _He'll lose it if he stays that close_... Yet the dog looked as untroubled as Garrett as with a cocked head he eyed the hairy man in front of him. Garrett was the one answering the beggar though. "My contacts say you're Samson, so do I, as does _Thrask_."

Broken teeth shone through the scraggly beard of the filthy man. "Good old Thrask, always looking out for me. He and I aren't too different, you know, we both hate what's being done to the mages, I'm just more firm in my convictions."

"So you _are_ a former Templar?" Anders asked, sounding surprised. "Who doesn't condone the oppression of mages? You must be one in a million."

"If you say so." Samson took one look at Anders, and then the stinking man was the one taking a step back, gaze quickly darting back to Garrett as he opened his mouth to speak.

Anders was faster though. "How do you manage without your Lyrium? All Templars must have some every day or they go...wonky."

"That guy isn't wonky?" Varric muttered, nodding at the mess of scraggly hair and filth that looked more like a monkey of Par Vollen than a human being. "Could have fooled me."

"They do?" Garrett asked, eyebrow raised as he shot Anders a glance.

The mage nodded gravely. "It's well known in Circle..." A dry chuckle. "...circles." He turned his gaze back to Samson. "A few days without it, and they start to shake, a few weeks, and they get delusional..."

"_Really_?" Garrett pointedly replied, looking back to Samson as well. "Yet you are neither shaking nor delusional...how come?"

"You can buy anything in Kirkwall if you know where to look and have the coin." Samson replied, crossing his arms over his chest as broken teeth once more glinted in a grin. "I thought the great Hawke would know that. Oh yes, I know who you are, who in Lowtown doesn't?"

To his credit, Garrett didn't react to the words, instead he picked up on the one thing of interest. _Damn, spooky how he always does that_... "And have the coin? You don't look like a man who could afford Lyrium." He shot the refuse pile Samson had been digging through a pointed look, then back up at Samson, narrowing his eyes. "So no shakes means you've had some recently...how?"

Growling, Samson took a step back, eyes glancing left and right, seeing his way out down the street. Yet Garrett made no move to get closer or to cut him off, so the man stayed after taking yet another step back. His tone was defensive, angry. "What's it to you? I'm allowed to make a living."

"Oh I agree." Garrett replied, though his tone was anything but apologetic. "However, I think you made that living out a boy, a boy named _Feynriel_, a boy I'm_ looking for_."

"What? You think I took his money, gutted the wretch and threw him in a ditch for good measure?" Samson growled, arms crossed over his chest. "I'm not like that, I told you, I have a soft spot for mages in plight."

"So you let him pay you...?" Garrett tried, making the corner of Samson's lip, or at least the beard there, twitch. "With all the savings he took from his mother, given how expensive Lyrium is...he must have been desperate." Merrill gave a little gasp at the words, making Isabela throw her a glance. The elf looked upset, hands over her mouth as she looked at the exchange with fear, no doubt feeling nothing but sympathy for the boy she'd never met.

Of course, Carver was quick to put a comforting arm around her shoulder, making her shoot him a thankful smile...and the man virtually glowed with satisfaction for it. _And you're supposed to be a lady's-man_?_ Could have fooled me_...

"Hey, I try to help, but I must live too." The former Templar replied, earning him a nod of understanding from Garrett even as Anders visibly bristled. "So...yes, _fine_, I helped him...the Templars think they have the Circle locked down, but mages escape from time to time. If they find me, I try to send them off to someone that might ship them out, that's all."

"Which will be _oh so_ easy for them when they have _no money_ to pay their fare..." Anders growled, a hint of a blue glow showing through his robes. "_Who_ do you send them to?" Samson took a step back, and Anders glow grew. "_Who_!?"

_Uh oh, time for fireworks_..._wonder if Samson still knows how to handle mages_...? Isabela took a step back, head cocked to the side and curious as she shot Varric a mutter. "A sovereign on Anders."

A chuckle greeted her. "No bet."

"Anders." Garrett put a hand on the mage's shoulder before anything could happen though, making the glow diminish as Anders took a reluctant step backwards. Turning his attention back to Samson – who by now was eyeing his exit with more longing, but also fear, unsure if he _could_ escape if it came to it – Garrett kept his tone calm. "Like my friend here is asking, who did you send him to?"

"I'm no snitch." Was Samson's quick response, though it lacked the heat of conviction.

"We only want to help him." Garrett replied, prodding Anders in the side with his elbow. "And you would of course be...paid for your help."

The mage shot Garrett an angry look however. "What? Are you crazy? I'm not...do you know how hard that is to come by, even for me?"

"You want him saved or not?" Garrett replied, never taking his eyes off the suspicious-looking Samson.

A sigh...and Anders reluctantly reached into his robe before fishing out a finger-thin vial and holding it up in a gloved hand. Within, the blue lyrium glowed like a small star, a light reflecting in Samson's wide eyes. _Heh_. If Isabela was any judge, Garrett's words were hardly needed. "Now, please tell us where you sent him..."

"Cave near the Wounded Coast, right at the waterline, called Skull's cove. Anyone knowing that region could point you to it." Samson eagerly replied, not letting the lyrium go with his eyes.

Isabela blinked. "Huh, _I_ know that place..." She frowned, a jab of anger in her gut. "...that's an infamous den of small time _slavers_..."

"Slavers!?" Anders echoed in anger, nearly pulling his vial back into his robe, only for Garrett to grab his wrist, stopping him. "What are you doing!? This..._wretch_...sent the boy to some slavers!"

"Th-they help sometimes!" Samson replied, taking two steps back in fear, gaze darting between his exit and the vial of lyrium so close to being in his possession. "Th-they often send younger mages to Tevinter. Tevinters love mages! He's probably going to get _rich_ there!"

"And if they don't?" Isabela caught herself asking, crossing her arms over her chest, making Carver shoot it a glance before he blushed and glanced down at Merrill, looking guilty even as the elf ignored him in favour of staring at Isabela. "The slavers _also_ like selling mages to the Chantry for that hefty finder's fee. As for the Tevinters...they mostly like using young mages as _weapons_ and to sacrifice them for even more powerful blood magic...but you _know_ that, don't you?"

Samson's eyes grew to the size of saucers. Yet Garrett slowly prised the vial of lyrium from Anders' hand, voice cool. "We offered a trade, the deal will be honoured." Anders glared at him...and then sighed and nodded, letting the man have the vial. Moving closer, Garrett made Samson flinch. The warrior simply held out the vial though, face neutral. "For your trouble."

Samson snatched up the vial.

And then Garrett snatched the man by the collar, holding him fast as Samson's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. "Do this again, and I'll _find_ you. I won't stop you from helping mages, but make sure you _actually_ help them, got it?" Next to him, Maric, silent so far, remained still even as he gave voice to a low and foreboding growl.

Samson's gaze darted between Garrett, the grip on his collar and the massive dog...and then he was nodding eagerly, nearly shrieking."Yeah, yeah, of course! Anything you say!"

Garrett released him, and Samson took off like his arse was on fire.

Chuckling, Isabela watched with curiosity as Garrett turned back to the group. "There is no time to rest, we'll go and check it out."

"You mean save him?" Carver replied, looking perplexed. "That's what we're doing, right?" Merrill and Anders both nodded emphatically at that.

"We _check it out_." Garrett replied, stoic as ever. "I told you, we don't unduly risk ourselves this time, the pay is too small."

Merrill and Anders both narrowed their eyes, though the former bit her lower lip a moment later, nearly looking guilty for feeling angry over the man's words. Isabela was the one speaking though, much to her chagrin. "Actually, I'll gladly help with the risky bit, if it'll help. No charge, promise." Garrett stared at her as if she'd sprouted a second head, making her shift her feet and look away with a shrug. "What? I'm not a big fan of slavery."

"Live and let live, eh?" Varric asked, offering her a smirk as he sensed her being uncomfortable.

She offered another shrug, wanting to be anything _but_ the centre of attention at the moment. "Something like that, yeah."

"Pardons, I'm just surprised you'd do anything without gaining something from it." Garrett replied, sounding annoyingly surprised.

Isabela glared back at him, sensing Merrill's silent support. "Yes, perish the thought that the _pirate_ has some standards..."

Anders cocked his head to the side, a smile somewhere deep in his hood. "Well, _actually_..."

Carver and Varric chuckled as one.

Grumbling, Isabela shook her head. "Oh screw you guys..."

"See, this is what I'm talking about." The mage retorted, drawing yet another chuckle out of Varric and Carver as Merrill politely put a hand over her mouth.

"Screw you all..."

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"I'll kill him!"

Merrill froze in horror. Garrett had explained to her that a _potential_ attempt at a rescue might be a bloody affair, and though she still supported trying to save poor Feynriel, she had found the idea somewhat...just a tiny bit...terrifying. It was one thing to deal with spiders and skeletons and...well...animals. _People_ were something entirely different though.

She had still approved of Garrett deciding to try to rescue the boy though, although the idea of Garrett deciding to do such at his convenience was irksome...she was sure he was being very considerate and smart about it, but it still _felt_ wrong to be ready to abandon someone like that.

Yet the small cave, half of it submerged in water deep enough for smaller boats that could get you out to the sea, had only held half a dozen slavers. Men in crude leather armour and carrying a variety of crude cutting implements as well as bows, Garrett had done the right thing and ordered an attack.

And that had been very nice of him.

It had also been nice of him to order them to take out the bandits using non-lethal ways, Merrill _especially_ liked how he trusted her to use the spell with the vines she'd used against the spiders again. It was _nice_ to be shown some trust after...well...everything after the discovery of the Eluvian, really. Even now, she could sense it in the back of her mind, almost calling to her...though obviously it was just her dedication to the work still permeating her, she was making such _slow_ progress...but it was there at least.

Of course, Garrett had sort of ruined the niceness of taking out the bandits non-lethally when explaining he hoped for a bounty from the city guard for handing over the slavers. _Well it's still nice, not killing, though...well...it's not for niceness sake, I suppose_. _"Welcome to Kirkwall."...who speaks like that, anyway_? She shook the annoyed thought aside, trying to focus back on the horror before her before she lost herself in thoughts, _again_. Too many in her clan had already called her 'ditsy', she did _not_ need for her new friends to call her that too.

Fortunately – or unfortunately, depending on how looked at things – that was easy to do.

They had not struck out at the bandits directly with magic, instead Merrill had guided the life of the ground up to grasp hold of the supports holding up the crudely made platform most of the bandits had been on, since they had been busy fishing. As such, four of the men had fallen straight into the water, never knowing why, and when they'd resurfaced Maric, Isabela and Carver had stood at the beach, making resistance pointless. Merrill was _sure_ there was a reason for Garrett not wanting her to use magic directly on the bandits, though such 'realities of life' as the Keeper called them usually escaped her until she could give it some thought back home. _Ohhhh_..._right, because they'll be sent to Kirkwall_!_ And there's Templars there_!

Merrill smiled at that, a smile that made the fifth slaver – nailed to the floor by Varric's crossbow bolt in his boot – give her a confused look as she and Anders kept their staves levelled at him as if they knew how to use them as normal weapons. For all Merrill knew, Anders actually _might_, Wardens were warriors, weren't they?

Another shake of her head, and Merrill turned her head, looking to the last of the Slavers, a portly man with ginger hair and that strange thing humans called 'stubble' all over his face. The man looked more scared than intimidating though, his left arm wrapped around a finely boned blond human and a cleaver-like sword pressing against the terrified boy's Adam's apple. _He looks so young_..._and sort of elven_... Merrill grimaced, not comfortable with the thought of what his mother had done, nor the way her clan had responded. _Elves shouldn't be with humans like that, but_..._it's wrong to punish it, isn't it_?

Garrett advanced at the man, Varric next to him with Bianca in hand...and the slaver drew back, making Feynriel whimper as the blade pressed harder against his throat. "Not another step! I'll do it!"

"No, you won't." Garrett calmly replied, though he stopped, arms lowered, his sword not even drawn anymore.

"What!? You bet your ass I will!" The man growled, though it was the growl of a cornered wolf. _A cornered wolf once bit off half the hand of a hunter though_...

"No, because if you do, my associate here will put a bolt through your skull, and you know that." Garrett replied, voice so cold and in control that Merrill found a shiver run down her spine._ He scares me_... "You're trying to intimidate me with a threat of killing this one. However, your hostage is but a _job_ to me, I can get another one." He let the words sink in. "_You_, however, cannot get another life."

The slaver didn't answer, he just stared at Garrett...and swallowed.

"Drop the sword and surrender, and you'll live, don't and you die, those are the options."

Merrill found herself holding her breath.

Yet not for long, as the slaver's sword softly landed in the sand.

Garrett moved forward, weapon still sheathed as he pulled Feynriel out of the slaver's suddenly limp grip, then pushed the unresisting man to his knees and wrenching his hands behind his back. "Isabela, you're good with knots, tie this lot up, then we'll check what stuff we have in this little base."

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It didn't take them long to tie up all the slavers, though only after Garrett had made them all take off their armour and boots, much to Merrill's embarrassment, something not helped by Isabela's constant stream of jokes at the expense of the half-naked men. _At least I got to see a lot of the insides of my hands that way_..._and a glimpse of_..._no, I must not think of that, never again_... Merrill shuddered at the thought. _Fat humans are disgusting_..._I've never even __seen__ a fat elf_..._then again, neither Dalish nor Alienage elves have much of_..._well_..._food_.

Having had the men marched out onto the beach, Garrett had ordered Maric to watch them as the rest of them went back into the slaver's camp to scour it for anything of value, but save what had been on the humans at the time, there was precious little. _Unless you count bread acting like convincing stones_...

Sitting on a rock, Merrill looked around herself, thinking the cave would actually be sort of pretty if there wasn't so much debris left from the stinking human slavers still cluttered over the floor. _Maybe a nice fireball would clear it all away_..._no_, _I'm pretty sure Garrett wouldn't approve, or the Keeper_..._and I don't know how to cast fireballs_.

"Yo-you were ready to let him kill me." Merrill turned her head at the unexpected words. So far Feynriel had been silent, but now he spoke, eyes wide as he stared at Garrett in slowly dawning horror. "You...you nearly let him slit my throat!"

"Things are risked in battle..." Anders said with a bitter tone, though the mage didn't turn from his riffling in a nearby barrel. "Damn, no cheese? What kind of people don't have any cheese?"

Garrett, leaning against a wall, looked up from the blade he'd collected from the slaver leader – a weapon Carver eagerly had explained to be a 'Falchion'...though Merrill saw little resemblance to a _real_ falcon in the cruel-looking blade – his voice cold. "No, as I told him, he wouldn't kill you, not if he wanted to live...and that man wanted to live."

"You...you couldn't have known that!" Feynriel complained, sounding more and more agitated as he sat in the sand, legs too weak to carry him after the shock of all that had happened.

"I was very certain." Garrett calmly replied. "But you're right, I took a risk..." Merrill grimaced, she didn't like the idea of risking another like that. "...but would you have preferred that I'd let him go so he could sell you to Maker knows who?"

"Well...no..." Feynriel sighed, head dropping low. He was short for a human, short and slim with what most humans would call delicate features...if it hadn't been for the round ears he could almost have been taken for an ugly elf. Merrill felt nothing but pity for him. _Can't be easy, being trapped between your Dalish past and the life you live in_... Before her mind, an image of the Eluvian flashed. ..._not that I would know_... "I just don't know where to go now."

"Why did you leave anyway?" Merrill caught herself asking, curious. _He's almost one of the people_...

"Why not?" Isabela spoke up, grumbling as she looked through a few boxes strewn in a corner, turning them upside down to let any content come out, only to be rewarded with the odd pile of dust and the odd pebble. "He's old enough to make his own way, isn't he?"

"Agreed." Carver grunted, earning him a _look_ from Garrett – _yes, he's definitively scary_ – that made the man grimace and look away.

"I just...I couldn't stay." Feynriel muttered, looking at the ground.

"So you took your mothers savings, your _family's_ savings, and _left_?" The chill in Garrett's voice was unmistakable, making both Feynriel and Merrill shiver. "A poor way to repay her for her love."

"B-but I _couldn't_ stay!" Feynriel exploded after a moment, looking up, face alight with earnestness. "I...I've had dreams..." He looked away, grimacing. "_Dark_ dreams, dark _voices_, voices wanting me to..." He closed his eyes, shuddering...and Merrill reached out, letting her hand rest on his shoulder._ I know of such dreams, the fade is a scary place for a mage at times_..._maybe the Keeper can help_? "...I don't want to endanger her."

"Okay, that's better, I can respect that." The chill faded out of Garrett's voice, replaced by something akin to politeness. "Anders, can you help him? Mage to mage, I mean?"

Feynriel's eyes got large. "_He's_ a...but...I..." He stared at Garrett in shock, then Anders.

The human mage looked back, nodding. "I can help you, yes, I have _extensive_ experience in dealing with creatures of the Fade..." A little chuckle. "...you could even say I'm as good as _two _experts."

Varric arched an eyebrow where he sat at what remained of the slavers' pier. "Wow, that was a bad one, Anders."

"I know, I'm truly sorry..." Anders lowered his head. "I blame the lack of cheese."

"Don't we all...?"

"Then it's settled." Garrett grunted, ignoring the others' banter as he pushed himself off the wall. "We're taking you back to your mother, Anders here will help you control your gift, and there will be no talking to anyone else about who's a mage or not...deal?" He offered Feynriel his hand.

Who took it, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet, a hesitant smile on his lips. "Deal."

And Merrill caught herself smiling at them both.

_Maybe this will work out after all_...

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for being such a hero._


	27. Chapter 27

_Maker, __how__ did I get this seat again_?

Inwardly, Isabela was groaning... and she was pretty sure that could be seen on the look on her face, if the smirk Varric shot her was any indication.

It was nice to be invited to the Hawke's place for dinner – Isabela suspected it was mother Leandra's way to keep up to speed with the friends of her children and ensure they were good people... though Maker knew why Isabela was then still welcome – since Isabela never got invited to someones home otherwise. _Well, except at night-time, and only if the wife or husband's away_... _this_ _is_... _different, not as great, but_... _nice_... _if only I'd gotten a better seat_.

Not that she didn't understand the placement of seats along the square table – she knew crafty when she saw it – it was actually quite ingenious... but it left her in a poor spot. For she was at the centre of the side that had three seated people, rather than the two at the other sides, and was stuck between Carver and _Gamlen_... a man she'd hoped _never_ to sit with again.

The old man had already tried hitting on her four times this current dinner, and would probably have gone up to double digits if he hadn't found one of the bottle of wines she'd brought so fascinating. Fortunately, he was a glum drunk and was by now busy staring at the red wine in his glass as if it had done him some old wrong, practically ignoring Isabela... though she sensed that would soon change, given the emptiness of the bottle at the table. As for Carver... stuck between Varric at the other corner with his endless stories and Isabela with...well..._tits_... they probably hoped to distract him with both to keep him from Merrill, his interest in her something both parent and brother no doubt didn't approve of.

So far, it was working, Isabela smugly noted as Carver shot her another glance while biting into a loaf of bread. Though the man also swiftly deflected his gaze, moving it over to the one elf at the meal, the woman sharing her corner with Gamlen and her side of the table with Bethany. _Shame Fenris didn't show up, __again__, I could have done with some eye-candy_... _he hangs out in that crappy mansion too much_. _Heck, I'd settle for Anders too, some good memories before he got all_... _scratched_ _up_. Merrill was smiling politely at her food, as was Bethany... but there was little conversation._ Crap, bet our words back at the Hanged Man is still hanging between them_._ Plus, Merrill's a bit proud about being a mage, and Bethany's an apologist for it_... _maybe Garrett wanted to put Merrill down again over that whole blood-magic thing_? _Dick_... _she wouldn't hurt a fly, anyone could see that_.

At least Bethany was sharing a corner with Aveline rather than Gamlen, but the Guardswoman – though sometimes Isabela had doubts about the whole 'woman' thing – was busy talking to Leandra, the elder woman and her looking very amiable as they discussed various matters of Kirkwall and Aveline's work. And finally, at the other side of the corner Leandra sat, their illustrious leader was seated next to Varric, wearing his usual look of utter seriousness as he leant on the table while listening to Varric's mutters_. Damn, I wish that calm was just an act, that would make him more human_. Isabela shot Maric a glance, the dog sitting in a corner with a bone from a cow in front of him, though the hound was merely looking at it, as if pondering its significance rather than eagerly biting on it like any healthy dog would have. _Yeah_... p_robably not an act, as they say in Ferelden 'as dog, as man'_... _damn, never thought I'd miss that wet place_.

Still, Garrett _did_ look slightly pleased, as did Aveline, and both had cause to... as did Isabela. The slavers they had captured had been a stroke of luck, for they were part of a larger group of raiders that had enjoyed some success with the land-based merchant caravans coming to Kirkwall... and if it was something the merchant-princes of Kirkwall _hated_, it was the loss of coin. So there had been a reward for each one taken, and the group had brought _six_. Not only that, but the loot from the slavers hadn't been as bad as first thought. Their armour and boots in particular being eagerly bought up by a mercenary company called the Red Irons, all except the one Carver had taken to replace his all too broken suit of scale armour, which too had been bought by a smith too drunk to count his coins properly. So all in all, Isabela had gained three silver more than she could have hoped for, a foursome rather than lonesome, as it was. _He might be a dick, but at least the guy keeps me coming for more_... _so he's unlike most dicks, heh_...

"So..." _Oh no, not again_. Isabela nearly thumped her head into the table at the sound of Gamlen's voice. To her surprise, his voice didn't sound all that drunk, simply thicker, as if his lungs had gained more volume. "...what is it that you do in your free time? Save drinking this _excellent_ vintage, that is?" Isabela shot him a curious glance, but the man wasn't even looking at her, his gaze still intent on his glass, though by now it was empty. "You sure have an eye for quality..."

_Do you even know what a vintage __is_? Isabela forced a smile, though Maker knew why she endured the man's company._ For silver, mostly, damn Garrett_. "You know, I'm... around." _Trying to act as if I'm without a care in the world as I search a million people city for a single book where the elite keep their private libraries guarded day and night while the rest know nothing of books save that they're valuable_. _Asking questions in places where that gets you killed, trying to relax and live to the fullest, never knowing when I'll feel that knife inside my chest from one of Castillon's assassins_... _things_ _like_ _that_. "Trying my best to do as little as possible." She shot Gamlen's wine a glance. "And I prefer ale, to be honest." _Unless spewed from an elf's mouth_... _heh, that was hilarious though_...

"Then we have something in common." Gamlen grunted, putting down his now empty glass before shooting her a smile, his breath reeking of wine and a piece of cheese stuck to one tooth. "The ale thing, not the doing as little as possible, that is. I like to move around, you know, invest... hell, getting exercise is also good."

_Maker, what did I do to deserve this_? "Really? You invest a lot?" Isabela feigned interest, though she was sure her disinterest showed in her every movement as she put her elbows on the table and picked at the bowl of broth in front of her. "I haven't heard that, you're doing well?"_ As for the exercise thing_... _yes, not touching that, I know what you're trying to lead into_.

"Sure. Qunari cheeses..."_ I had one once, or at least a bite, rest went overboard_. "...Rivaini wheels..." _I think I heard of that_! _They tried to save wood so they could sell them cheap and instead they kept breaking them when weight was put on them_! _Really, reinventing the wheel_... _who_ _does_ _that_? "...Lyrium... trade." _Smuggling, you mean, seeing as the Chantry has the monopoly_... _I can see why you now live in Lowtown_. "Admittedly there's not much I invest in nowadays, got to take care of the family." Isabela nearly laughed in the man's face. "Still, that leaves a lot of extra time for that... exercise."

_Yes, I'm sure your right hand has a grip like iron_. Isabela shuddered, she was no maid, and didn't mind older men – they usually knew their stuff – even those that most would call filthy sometimes deserved a chance if there was something catching her eye...but Gamlen had _no_ desirable qualities, which was a feat in itself given Isabela's ability to overlook most issues. "Well I'm glad you're taking care of your family, I'm sure Garrett appreciates it."

"Well... yes, thank you." Gamlen blinked, obviously not having expected that reply and unsure how to lead things in to what he wanted to talk about. Unfortunately for Isabela, he was as subtle as he was charming. "Anyway, about that exercise, I find it best when-"

"Hey, Gamlen." Isabela and Gamlen both jumped at the voice rising over the din at the table, the former mostly over it coming from Aveline across the table. The woman was wearing that ridiculous leather apron that was as much clothing as it was armour, making it look as if she was expecting to get back to work at any moment – given the sword on her hip, maybe she did – but more importantly, she also wore what passed for a 'smile' on her brutish features. "Have you tried this ale?" The guards woman rolled a bottle across the table and to the man. "From the barrack, on me."

"Hmm... thank you." Gamlen stared at the bottle in his hand, then uncorked it and sniffed at it. "Wow, strong stuff!" _Enough to put a man down_? His face broke into a grin. "Thank you!" He took a big swig, then another... and Isabela shot Aveline a look that was partly grateful, partly confused. _I thought we were_..._rivals_? _Sort of_? _You don't like me_? _Does that ring a bell_?

The ginger gave a shrug, shooting Gamlen a significant look before turning back to Leandra and whatever discussion they were now on. _Huh_... _thanks_. Isabela sighed in relief... and then nearly groaned. _Crap, now I owe her one, the horror_...!

Now free from the conversation imposed on her, she was just in time to hear Carver directing his attention to Merrill across the table. "So..." _This ought to be good_. "...Merrill, you're making friends in the Alienage?"

Garrett was suddenly one big frown as he took a pause from his discussion with Varric to shoot his brother a withering look...who stoically ignored the glare, set on his target. Isabela rolled her eyes. _Oh well_... _why not, might earn a point with Garrett and get more jobs_... Crossing her arms under her breasts, she leant them down on the table, the pressure making her nearly spill out of her tunic as she shot Carver her oft-effective 'hello sailor' look. Garrett shot her a look, but not to glance at her chest – he only did that for half a heartbeat – but to give a nod, knowing what she was trying to do.

Yet to their surprise, Carver didn't even seem to notice the great view she was giving him, having eyes only for the reed-thin elf... instead she found herself shuddering as she _felt_ the still drinking Gamlen leer at her. _Next time I come to the Hawke's, I'll wear plate armour_... Merrill's voice cut into her thoughts thought. There was an almost childish quality to her voice, made all the more pronounced by the way the Dalish elongated the a's and e's in a speech with such a soft accent. "Not _really_... I think they don't know what I'm talking about most of the time... they just give me this blank stare..." She assumed a neutral look for a moment, something that looked decidedly alien on her face... before it split into the usual smile. "Plus I can't talk about... you know... me..." She and Bethany exchanged a quick glance before they both looked away. "...some wanted to know about being Dalish... they started by asking if we ate meat raw..." She grimaced in disgust. "...I was surprised no one wanted to leave the Alienage after I answered though."

"They prefer what's known to them." Garrett cut in before Carver could reply, earning him an annoyed look. "What's unknown is scary, foreign."

Merrill bit her lower lip, nodding as she looked up at the ceiling, as if seeing it for the first time, then around the table before shooting Garrett a glance, though she quickly deflected her eyes from his steady gaze. "I... I can understand that."

The man nodded, shot Carver another look telling him to stop speaking to the elf, then turned back to Varric. Carver, however, was not dissuaded. _Brave man_... "Awww, don't give up, I'm sure once they all see what a lovely woman you are, they'll come to like you as much as we do!"

Merrill's eyes bulged, then she turned red, her gaze glued to the table as she managed a whisper. "_Thank you_."

Carver looked like one big question mark at that, making Isabela chuckle. It had been quite the task, telling Merrill what wanting to get into someone's trousers _meant_, and that Carver wanted that with _her_. Isabela suspected the elf had actually tried _not_ to understand for a good while, but in the end, no innocence of such matters could handle the great _Isabela_!

Merrill had been horrified though, at the point that Isabela had nearly felt sorry for her... though she was by now over it. The mere _thought_ of sleeping with a human had seemed to unnerve Merrill quite a bit, she had blabbered a lot about her clan at that point, and then there was the whole 'I don't think of him that way' and 'please make him stop'...essentially Merrill thought herself to be in an extremely awkward situation._ I don't get it, just don't encourage him and ignore it until it goes away, burn him if he tries to advance anyway_... _so_ _many_ _people_ _are_ _awkward_ _about_ _sex_. Isabela shot Gamlen a glance, he hadn't taken the hint for over a year now, yet hadn't tried anything to make her shoot him down either. _Doesn't work on everyone though_... _although if he tries pushing things_,_ he'll burn big time_.

Judging the elf's blush a victory, Carver grinned. "Quite welcome, my lady."

"Sooo..." Isabela turned to Carver, trying to save the poor elf before she blushed so hard she'd burst. "I saw you in your new armour before, quite dashing..." She offered a flutter of her eyelashes.

Carver straightened in his chair, looking very impressive save for the overly proud look on his face. _Ah, men and their egos_... _too_ _easy_. "Thank you, I like how easy the leather is to move in, it's not as protective as I'd like, but when you're a skilled swordsman, you really shouldn't be hit." _Sure, lecture me – fighting in a tunic – about the importance of not being hit_... _I love to learn_. "It's a little tight around the shoulders though..." _Well duh, you're nearly the size of a Kossith_. "...but mother has promised to fix that, she's a wonder with the needle."

_How_... _quaint_. Isabela grimaced, she didn't much like the idea of a woman doing those 'wifely' things, especially one stuck at home to service her family... it reminded the pirate of a time far better left in the past. She threw the old woman a look. Leandra was beautiful for her age. Though there were lines of worry and tiredness in her face, they only seemed to enhance her appearance... that at that moment was dazzling Aveline with a smile. "Why yes, I sent him a letter! He mentioned me?"

Aveline grimaced. "His steward did... that was the _fifth_ letter? You better stop. Unless you have some sort of offer to reimburse the current owners and to fix up the location to increase market value in that part of Hightown, there's no way the Viscount will heed your request to regain your old home, never mind for him to _read_ your request." Leandra's smile faltered. "Right now you're only annoying the steward, which means he won't read further letters unless you send a sovereign along."

"Well... I suppose that's fair of him..." Leandra looked down at the table, shoulders slumped. "...running an estate that size needs a lot of money..."

"Don't worry, mother." Garrett put a supporting hand on Leandra's shoulder, offering that gentle smile Isabela had only spotted when he was at home. "We are getting closer to our goal. Once we have enough, the expedition will give us a significant boost. With enough money, I can hire new expeditions to land us even more wealth. I've thought this through, trust me."

"I _do_... it's just..." Leandra shot Merrill – Leandra might be a gentle soul, but only a fool trusted a person they barely knew – a look, then noticed Garrett not even glance at the elf, and shrugged. "...we have what, thirty gold?" She shot Merrill another glance, but the elf was just staring blankly at their conversation, curious, but not in the least interested in the gold. _Still a Dalish at heart_..._damn, thirty Sovereigns_... "And it's almost _winter_... how will we make enough in time?"

"Our name is out there now, there's larger investors out there, wanting our help." Garrett's smile had faded somewhat during his mother's question, but it quickly came back as he himself spoke. "And yes, I realise that might mean scarier jobs, but you must understand that I try to solve things the easy way, with little danger." _That's for sure_. If it had been up to her, Isabela would have gutted the slavers holding Feynriel in one charge, but she had to admit that Garrett's way had been more beneficial... still... she didn't much care for it, it was _dull_. "I'll _minimize_ the danger, I promise."

Leandra didn't look all that comfortable with the idea, yet nodded anyway. "I know, my rock, I know... it's just..." She grimaced, looked away. _You worry_? Isabela held back a grimace. _My crew used to worry for me_... _right_? "..I know."

Watching mother and son share a gentle smile of shared love, Isabela suddenly felt tired.

Varric coughed, interrupting the moment. "Speaking of danger..."

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for being so awesome. _


	28. Chapter 28

"This is clearly a set-up." Garrett growled at the man before him. "_Think_ about it."

They were near the coast just outside Kirkwall, and while the sun was up, there was a chill in the air, promising the cold rain that frequented Kirkwall during its short summer. The vegetation, while sparse so close to the sea, was shifting into orange and yellow, the short autumn and winter barely leaving enough time to shed the leaves before it was time to grow them again. All of that reminded Garrett that the time they had to collect fifty sovereigns for their trip was running out...making his current task all the more essential.

_I can't let this money slip out of my hands_. Garrett resolved there and then not to give an inch, he _would_ get the job done._ I have many allies at my back, they'd be fools to force the issue_. They had reached the coast via one of the many tunnels in Darktown, a tunnel Garrett figured he'd have to tell Aveline about next time he met her. _It's frustrating that I can't bring her with me on these excursions, but it's too much in the twilight of what's legal_..._damn, I could use her sword and counsel though_. He felt himself missing her, despite having met her at their last dinner...unfortunately his mother had largely monopolized the conversation with the Guardswoman.

Still, Garrett had a strong complement at his back. For one thing was sure when the one hiring you claimed it was an easy job while offering a whole fifteen sovereigns...and that was that it _wouldn't_ be easy. Garrett had been somewhat surprised at finding his hirer to be a Chantry priest, but her cold eyes had ruined her inflamed speech of caring for your fellow man, of doing what she was doing out of the kindness of her heart. _A poor schemer if I ever saw one_. Still, Garrett _needed_ the money, and he couldn't well argue against helping the poor Kossith mage once he'd laid eyes on him. Whatever Petrice's plan was, Garrett _actually_ felt sympathy for the wretched creature with its neck and wrists collared in bronze, eyes sealed with steel stitched into its skull and mouth stitched shut with copper thread...the poor man needed to be let free, to have his binds cut.

Conscious of the danger of transporting anything – never mind a Kossith _mage_ – through Darktown, Garrett had therefore called out for his allies, however much it stung to hand a sovereign to both Isabela and Fenris while Merrill gladly took the four silver offered. The elf mage was standing with Anders and Bethany, the trio of mages forming a protective formation around the much larger Qunari, as they had throughout the journey, all of them extremely sympathetic to the poor wretch and conscious of what would have happened to them, had they been born among the Qunari. Fenris, though less eager to help, seemingly finding something amusing with their task, was standing to Garrett's right while Carver was at his left, the trio forming a spearhead of steel aimed straight at those barring their path.

A little to Garrett's right side but far back, Varric stood with Maric, the dog sat on his haunches, though his calm was feigned, at a moment's notice he could charge in...if he'd be faster than Bianca in Varric's hands was debatable though. Isabela on the other hand, stood alone to the far left side, seemingly harmless, which would surely result in a knife in the back for anyone taking their eyes off her, if it came to blows.

Garrett doubted it though.

Before him, the Qunari warriors were nine in numbers, their tattooed bodies merely dressed in leather trousers – if they felt the chill in the wind, they didn't show it – as some hefted the huge javelins they were so fond of while others only wore a swords. They were then, if one ignored the Kossith mage that so far hadn't done anything but meekly follow Garrett...equally matched in numbers. But while the Qunari were doubtlessly large and impressive, Garrett didn't feel all that intimidated, he had the mages, he had the equipment, he had a crossbow ready to end an enemy right there and then...and surely the Qunari were aware of that?

Their leader, a hulking brute of a Qunari with his horns slightly curled at the tips, made no motion of understanding that though. His eyes was steady and unnerving like any Qunari's...far too calm, yet with a nascent fire deep within...and _fixed_ upon Garrett's. "The circumstances are irrelevant, the Arvaraad have been given a task, it must be completed."

_As flexible as a Bronto_... Garrett sighed, though his annoyance now held an undercurrent of worry. He did _not_ want a fight, he wanted the Qunari to step down...and surely they would have, had they been people acting with a sense that wasn't completely alien to Garrett._ If it comes to blows, even if we beat them without loss_..._the Arishok will have our heads_. The thought made a bead of sweat run down his back, his confidence wilting under the steady gaze of the Qunari leader.

"A task to continue the enslavement of another person!" Anders called back, his eyes glowing malevolently.

Raising a hand to command silence, eyes wide with fear of the thought of Anders _not_ obeying, Garrett forced himself to turn back to the Qunari officer, to look calm. "You said a tip guided you to the tracks that led you here...how could tracks lead you here if we _just_ got here? We weren't here to make the tracks...ergo someone else made them with this mage." _What's Petrice up to_? _Is she mad_? _Knew this was a bad idea_... "Why do you think they'd do that, if not to make us meet and force a confrontation?"

"What others do is not my concern, the Saarebas _is_." The Qunari gestured at the Kossith mage with an ornate mace in his hand. "It has been left without its Arvaraad. It might be tainted, that taint must be destroyed."

"_It_?" Merrill echoed, voice small, yet holding a hint of defiance.

Garrett ignored all but the Qunari though, frowning in irritation._ How can anyone be so blind and unable to grasp the bigger picture_...? "You're _not_ touching him, he's under my protection."

"The only reason we're speaking is because the Arishok has claimed you possess some sense in a city devoid of it." The Qunari replied, eyes narrowing, the fire in his eyes growing. "So understand this, I am Arvaraad, I contain the Saarebas, that is _what_ I am...you cannot stop that, just as you cannot stop the changing of the seasons."

"You are not a season, you're flesh and blood." Garrett let the words hang there for a moment, narrowing his eyes in turn. "And I _can_ stop you if you force me."

He felt surprisingly confident of that. He had managed to trade in his old armour of plate and cloth to a Coterie man who appreciated the idea of good protection while being silent, and instead Garrett had bought a suit of thick steel chainmail that covered every inch of him below his chin. The coif to it wasn't much protection for his head without some additional protection, granted, but if there was money over once it was time for the expedition, Garrett had his eyes out for a great-helm of steel that came surprisingly cheap from a smith that despised steel over other materials and sold such arms and armour cheaply to make room for better stuff. _Wade is an odd man_...

Not only that, but Garrett had sold his old buckler and replaced it with a round shield from one of the slavers, the larger protection a welcome change, though the shape wasn't one he preferred. His old broadsword that had come from Ferelden with him had been sold, the weapon had never been of great quality and the wear and tear had rendered it fit for nothing but scrap metal to be frank. Still, Garrett had sold it to a foolish elf...elves weren't allowed to carry such weapons, and though Kirkwall didn't enforce those rules, its existence would give others an excuse to beat up the man...but Garrett wasn't about to try and point that out to yet another moronic elf.

Instead he carried the falchion he'd taken from the slavers on his hip, a brutal cleaver of a weapon, but one that would make short work of flesh and bone...even that of a Kossith.

"You can stop me, but you cannot stop who I _am_, those are two different entities." The Qunari leader patiently replied, as if he was speaking to a child. "Relinquish the Saarebas and leave."

_Impossible_... "I understand the difference perfectly, it doesn't change the fact that you cannot enforce your rule on _this_ Saarebas." Garrett grunted, resting a hand on the pommel of his sword, making those behind him tense while those in front of him remained calm. "I took a contract, I will _honour_ that contract, no matter what...as such, it's _you_ who must leave."

"Honour demands that you stay?" The Qunari seemed puzzled, but only for a moment before he straightened. "Our natures are in conflict, what must be, must be." He raised the ornate mace, the thing glowing yellow. A grunt, and Garrett looked back in time to see the Kossith mage fall to his knees, the plates over his eyes glowing yellow. "Saarebas, show that you still honour the Qun."

A nod...and the mage bowed down, head touching the sand, the man suddenly speaking, though it was a parched whisper. "I submit to you, Arvaraad...the truth has not left me."

Turning his head back, Garrett found a glimmer of satisfaction in the eyes of the Qunari leader even as Anders called out in rage. "A forced submission is no submission at all! You're torturing him!"

"I put it back under Arvaraad control, out of a _foreign_ one..." The Arvaraad snorted, a hint of disgust in his tone. _Petrice, she_..._damn, she must have done something, enforced the mage's silence_. The eyes regarding Garrett were cold. "Now, you see, the Saarebas submit to the Qun, it is not under your charge, you have no right." _Damn, I should agree, there's too many unknowns here, Petrice is playing me, the danger is too great_..._both now and later if I force things_.

_And if I don't, we won't get enough money for the expedition, we'll remain in danger_... Garrett grimaced, then looked back up to the Qunari. "It does not matter, you forced his submission, you intend to kill him, but he's _my_ responsibility."

"Not anymore." The Qunari narrowed his eyes.

"I was charged with taking him to safety, away from your kind. I _will_ do that." Garrett growled back, trying to sound more confident than he was. _Come on, step down you fool_... "Surely, the Arishok _knows_ I honour my deals? You should respect that."

"I do." The Qunari nodded, stoic as a rock. "But I cannot let you pass." He reached for his sword-

"What are you doing!?" Panic welling up in him, Garrett grabbed the Qunari's elbow, stopping him from drawing his blade as both groups tensed, weapons at the ready. _We can't actually fight_! _The Arishok_..._Maker, stop being an idiot_! "Don't be a fool! You'd throw your life away!"

"I am _Arvaraad_, not stopping you would be _not_ being Arvaraad, and that is _not_ living." The Qunari replied, his grip still on the sword, though he did not attempt to draw it. "Release the Saarebas and keep the _life_ you hold so precious." There was enough scorn in his voice that anyone else would have spat at Garrett, but the Qunari simply looked at him, eyes hard. "Or act with honour, and live or die as the person you are meant to be."

_Are all Qunari mad_!? Garrett stared at the Kossith in horror. "That doesn't make sense!" Garrett shook his head, released the Qunari's elbow and gestured back at his group with his sword hand. "Look, you're all skilled warriors, I'm sure, but you're outmatched here. My group is better armed _and_ armoured, I have a crossbow ready to shoot aimed straight at your _heart_! You will die if you try anything." The Qunari glared down at him, not intimidated, despite seeing the truth with his own eyes. _Maker, back down you fool_... "Hell, if you try anything, I have _three_ mages that would-"

"Saarebas!?" The Qunari's eyes opened wide, gaze moving up to the elf and the pair of humans surrounding the Kossith still touching the ground with his forehead. There was horror in the Qunari's eyes, horror and _anger_. "Bas Saarebas!"

The Qunari's sword came out of its sheath swinging.

_Maker_! Jumping back and bending backwards, Garrett's vision filled with the sword's black blade as it nearly took his head off, sweeping through the air where his head has been a moment before.

As he straightened and took another step back, he didn't have time to see the skirmish explode into action as his enemy came at him again. The Qunari raised his sword high over his shoulder...and then stumbled as Bianca's kiss struck him square in the chest, the fletching of the bolt barely protruding from between a pair of ribs. Grunting, the Qunari kept going though, his charge slowing, his swing even slower as it swept from his right shoulder and diagonally down.

Garrett ducked and deftly stepped to the left, letting the Qunari's swing miss with a good couple of inches to spare as his right hand darted down and drew his falchion in a diagonal swing up while he took a swift step forward.

The sword took the Qunari just under the temple, the heavy blade smashing bone and flesh, hacking the man's right horn off along with a quarter of his skull.

As the Qunari fell face first to the ground, pieces of his brain and skull striking Garrett's chest, Garrett tried to take stock of the situation, insistently suppressing his panic of what had just happened as he tried to focus on what now had to be done.

Varric cried out in anger, his coat pinned to a tree by a javelin taller than he was. But as the responsible Qunari advanced with drawn sword, Maric barrelled into him, knocking him onto his back. The Qunari threw off the hound and rolled onto one knee, his chest bleeding from multiple claws even as Maric came at him again, teeth ripping a tear in the man's thigh before darting away from a wide swing of his foe's sword.

A Qunari charged at Carver, javelin in his right hand raised for a throw at point blank range. Instead a beam of white struck his shoulder, encasing it and most of the Qunari's arm in ice and drawing a groan from the warrior. A groan turning into a howl as Carver's sword came down, shattering ice and flesh alike and sending the Qunari's arm to the ground before with a growl the man kept moving the sword, swinging it counter-clockwise over his head and then down, smashing the blade deep into the Qunari's gut, felling him even as Carver continued the swing, bloodied blade ready to meet his next foe with a clash of steel against steel. The new Qunari pricked Carver as their blades met, but not enough to penetrate the hardened leather, and Garrett's brother swiftly drove his foe backwards with a flurry of blows as they duelled.

Fenris had shattered the javelin of a Qunari forced to use it to parry the elf's massive war-hammer, but somehow the Qunari had managed to draw his sword swiftly enough to parry the next blow, though it drove him back several steps. Then a second Qunari came at Fenris, blade swinging down...only to be parried by the tip of the elf's hammer even as Fenris' foot kicked out, sending his first opponent stumbling before the end of the shaft to his hammer struck out, striking his second opponent right between the legs.

Two more Qunari were charging down the centre, past the busy Carver and Fenris as they made a beeline for the mages...yet finding Garrett in the way as they raised their javelins. _Damn_. Garrett ducked low, his shield up...and found one javelin strike the ground next to his left foot as the other bounced off the metal rim of his shield with a loud ring.

Then there was a flash of white light, the crack of a thunderbolt...and the rightmost Qunari was flying backwards, his chest bursting in an explosion of gore as Merrill's lightning bolt struck true.

A scream of agony, and Garrett glanced to his left in time to see Isabela drop onto her side, a javelin stuck in her thigh, making blood pour into the sand even as the responsible Qunari charged in with drawn sword.

There was no time to help though. Looking back, Garrett was just in time to parry the swing of the remaining Qunari facing him with his shield, the force of the impact making itself felt all the way to his shoulder. His foe snarled, gripped his sword with both hands and brought it down upon Garret's head as the human raised his shield.

_Pain_!

Despite the shield taking the damage, Garrett was driven to one knee by the sheer force of impact as his arm and shield smashed into his head. Growling back, he slashed blindly...and the Qunari cried out as he raised his right leg, the limb spurting blood as its foot remained on the ground. Grunting, Garrett rose back to his feet with a quick thrust, his blade entering and exiting his foe's chest in a silvery blur...and the Qunari fell onto his back, blood bubbling from his mouth as he weakly clutched at his leg.

Whirling about, Garrett moved to charge at Isabela's Qunari as Anders and Bethany both hurled a bolt of icy energy at him, the former while running for the rapidly paling pirate. The Qunari was far more nimble than his size suggested though, jumping over the first bolt before rolling under the next...only to stumble as a brown root grew out of the ground, grabbing a hold of his ankle...but it only held him for a moment as he hacked the root off with a single slash of his sword.

By then, Anders had reached Isabela, left hand glowing green as he held it over her leg while his right, glowing blue, pointed a finger at _Garrett_.

Suddenly, he was moving _faster_, time was moving as it usually was, yet his limbs all moved faster than they should, as if had become part hummingbird.

Before him, the Qunari turned to face the threat even as Isabela's throwing knife sliced his right shoulder open.

_An opening_! Garrett swung at the wounded shoulder, his foe parried, yet the blow still connected, slicing open yet more flesh and making blood pour down. Reversing his swing, Garrett made a feint for the Qunari's left, only to hold his swing back and instead drive the pommel of his sword straight forward, under his foe's parry to smash into a rib with a loud crunch.

Growling, the Qunari raised his wounded arm and grabbed a hold of his shield. Wrenching it down, his sword moved in a thrust for Garret's chest. His movements slowing, yet still swift, Garrett twisted on the spot, making the blade simply slide across his chainmail as his sword slashed down in a backhand swing.

The Qunari cried out, left leg giving out under him as the falchion cut down to the bone. As his foe's grip on his shield weakened, Garrett wrenched it free and moved it to the right, shoving aside his foe's weapon arm before he twisted his entire body to the left along with his arms, shield smashing the Qunari's head sideways before his falchion smashed deep into his skull.

His body now moving at its usual speed, Garrett wrenched the blade free from the Qunari, letting the body hit the floor as he glanced up, finding the javelin out of Isabela as Anders quickly tended to her. Judging by her pale smile, she would live. _At least the javelin didn't get aimed at Bethany, Carver or Maric this way_.

Garrett spun at the thought, but found his worry unfounded. Bethany was safe next to Merrill and Maric finally got the chance to sink his teeth into his Qunari's throat when the warrior lost a hold of his sword due to Varric's crossbow sinking a bolt into the warrior's shoulder. As for Carver...

The man had struck the head off the Qunari he was fighting, and now he was charging into Fenris' duel, engaging an already weary-looking Qunari even as the elf tripped up his own foe with nimble feet before shattering his ribcage with a single swing from his war-hammer.

Carver's foe swung low as Carver swung high, but Garrett's brother was one step ahead with his blow as he jumped over the Qunari's swing whilst his own slash made a deep gash across the chest of his foe. Roaring, the Qunari's reverse swing whipped up at Carver's face...only for it too to miss as Carver ducked low and thrust out, his blade drawing blood from the Qunari's stomach this time. The Qunari turned his missed reverse swing into a thrust...and Carver gripped his own blade with his right hand as he parried the thrust and drove it upwards, before he took a step forward and pushed the blade down like one would a quarterstaff, pressing the blade against the side of the Qunari's neck.

The Qunari's eyes widened...and then dimmed as Carver pulled the blade towards him, making arterial blood gush out.

A shove of Carver's shoulder, and the Qunari fell to the ground, dead with the rest.

Silence.

The repercussions of what had just happened sinking in.

With a grunt of effort, Varric pulled the javelin that had pinned him free, frowning at the hole in his coat even as he grumbled. "Damn, was it something you said?"

"We are so dead..." Bethany whimpered, staring at the corpses around her in horror.

Then Bethany and Garrett both shot Merrill a glare as the elf fidgeted where she stood. "Is it just me...or won't the Arishok be upset with this?"

"No, of course not, he loves having his people killed." Anders grunted in sarcasm, the mage still bent over Isabela, glowing hands over her rapidly healing thigh, making the pirate smirk, despite remaining pale. _Huh, you're tougher than you look_.

"Clearly..." Isabela grunted, shifting where she sat and getting a glare from Anders for doing so...though she ignored it as she looked to Garrett. "...we should bury the dead and never speak about this again. Qunari carry grudges as well as any _dwarf_." _Not a bad idea, I'm surprised you'd vote for the cautious approach_..._but maybe even you can know sense_?

"Hey now, _Orzammar_ dwarf, if you please." Varric grunted, the dwarf now holding out his cloak in front of him, scrutinizing the damage. "As for the bury idea...yeah, why not? I hate to be the one making the Qunari riot and put half the town in flames, that would put a dampner on my mood."

Garrett opened his mouth to agree, but it was Fenris who spoke first, the elf's tone disapproving as he cleaned his hammer with a rag. "That would be a mistake. The Arishok _will_ know that he's lost people, he _will_ launch an investigation, and he will _never_ stop it...we'd spend the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders. If he doesn't catch us, that is, that would be..._unpleasant_." The others grimaced at the coolly uttered word. "Better to come clean." _That's_ _madness_...

"You...want us to march into the den of the lion...and then tell it you killed its cubs?" Carver stared at the elf with the incredulity Garrett felt, then rolled his eyes. "Sure, you go right ahead, I'll be right behind you."

"Their deaths will mean little if the situation is explained as it transpired. Qunari value lives differently than we do." Fenris argued, making Garrett nod in agreement – given his recent exchange, how could he not? "As long as someone acts with honour, as their task required, no blame can be laid on them." He turned, regarding Garrett with a serious frown...then tilted his head to the side. "I think." Garrett's eyes bulged.

"You _think_?" Varric echoed the words that had nearly exploded from Garrett's mouth. "That's a pretty big risk to take, you know."

"It is better than to be hunted by a merciless and tireless foe who will rest at _nothing_ until honour has been sated...none will be spared." Fenris growled, still holding Garrett's gaze, as if challenging him.

"Well..." Isabela muttered, voice small, though that was likely due to blood-loss rather than fear, she was too much a fool to fear anything, after all. "...I still vote for the burying idea."

"I'd hate to perform suicide by Qunari." Varric grunted in agreement. "It's better to take our chances." _Chances __everyone__ would have to take_. Garrett glanced at Carver, then Bethany.

"Yeah, sorry, I vote for a dirt nap for these guys." Carver nodded. "I might be brave, but I'm not suicidal."

"I'll have to go..." Garrett whispered the words, their significance filling him with dread.

"How do Qunari bury their dead?" Merrill asked, a curious question...but not one concerning Garrett at the moment.

_I'll have to_..._Maker_... Garrett looked to Bethany, then Carver...and the former noticed his look and grimaced, silently shaking her head even as Fenris grunted. "They don't, now shut up."

"Let's just bury them, forget about this." Bethany said, and though she spoke to all, her gaze was glued to Garrett.

Who shook his head, then cleared his throat. "No, I'll go."

Silence, everyone staring at him.

"You'll...what?" Varric asked, staring at him as if he'd gone mad._ Maybe I have_?

"As Fenris says, if we hide this he'll continue to hound us. If we come clean, he might show mercy...and I've earned some respect from him, perhaps enough to persuade him that this all was an accident?"_ Plus it'll keep the rest of the family safe if things go poorly. I can't send anyone else either, they might tell of my family's involvement_..._no, it has to be me_. He swallowed. "I think it's the best option."

Again, silence.

Isabela seemed deep in thought, looking down at her boots. Carver was frowning in disapproval, Bethany looked close to tears...and Merrill stared at him with conflicted eyes. Fenris was nodding in approval...though had already turned to pilfer the pockets of the nearest Qunari. Varric's eyes were grim though. "I don't like it, Hawke, I'd prefer you alive."

"If it goes poorly, I hope you can continue your relationship with my siblings. Perhaps it will still work out." Garrett replied, feeling his breath hitch at his implication. _I_..._don't want to die, if I was sure this would save my family, then yes, but for __this_..._damn these difficult situations_. "However, I doubt that'll happen, I'm still a Kirkwall citizen."

"That's a poor shield if I've ever heard of one." Isabela snorted, making Garrett grimace, remembering Javaris._ Thank you for that_...

Bethany opened her mouth to protest...and then slammed it shut as Garrett held up a hand. "I'll _go_, that's final." Lowering his hand, he offered a little smile. "I'll pinkie-promise on it, if you like."

"Pinkie what?" Isabela chuckled, making Bethany blush as she shook her head, glancingto see if anyone was looking...and then shot him a quick nod while biting her bottom lip.

"Good, you've settled that." Anders grunted, sounding irritated as he strode away from Isabela, marching up to the still kneeling Saarebas. "Now, what of him?" Kneeling down next to the Kossith, Anders put a hand on the man's shoulder, voice low. "Hey...you don't need to kneel any more, you're _free_."

The Qunari raised his head, and despite the plaits covering his eyes, Garrett felt his eyes on him. His voice was a dry whisper. "Free? I am free to be, or not. I choose to be, to follow the Qun."

"I...what?" Anders took a step back, arm dropping limp at his side as the Kossith rose. "I meant you're free to go where you want..."

"I am free to obey." Was the rasped answer, every word no doubt painful for the creature whose lips bled from the stitches holding them together. "The Qun is clear, Saarebas outside their Karataam, without an Arvaraad, cannot be allowed to live, in risk of tainted magic."

"B-but you _know_ you're not tainted!" Anders exploded, the human moving to stand in front of the Qunari. "What was the point of all this, if not to set you free!?"

The Kossith cocked his head to the side, looking over at Garrett. "I knew Arvaraad would find me...that they'd see me die with honour. Now..._you_ must tell the Arishok I did...that I followed...the Qun."

Garrett, torn between fear of what he would have to do, and anger with the Qunari mage, moved to stand next to Anders, scowling. "Why didn't you _say_ anything!? You've not said a word since we left and _now_ you decide to speak!? I...what's wrong with you!?"

"Your chantry woman used runes in leather, within my collar, to silence me." The Qunari calmly regarded Garrett. "I could not speak until Arvaraad came." A long gasp of breath. "And I could not disobey, a Sareebas must not act on own volition, it must..._obey_."

"That's...madness." Garrett grunted, shaking his head. "Your want to die and we won't help you! That means you _are_ acting on your own volition!"

"I act as the Qun demands, not my choice."

"But you said you're free to act! You don't _have_ to obey the Qun!"

"If I do not, I'm no Sareebas, and if I'm no Sareebas, I'm not alive." The Qunari replied, making Anders and Garrett groaned aloud as one. _It's the Arvaraadall over again_... "My choice was made long ago, the Qun dictates, I follow."

"No, this is ridiculous." Garrett prodded the Qunari's chest with a finger. "There's no foul magic in you! You are _not_ tainted! You have _no_ reason to kill yourself! I will _not_ just stand by and watch a mage kill himself for being a mage!"

"You have no choice..." The Qunari took a deep breath, utterly calm as he inclined his head in a curt nod. "...basvaarad."

And before Garrett's eyes, the Sareebas caught on fire, so intense he and Anders had to take a step back.

_By Andraste_...

A grunt...and the Qunari's fire went out as he fell to his knees...knees shattering into ash, making the rest of his body break apart as it struck the ground.

Silence.

Everyone staring at the pile of ash that had been a person just a moment ago. _No, not a person_..._not even to himself_. The thought frightened Garrett for some reason. _The Qunari aren't people_..._not in the usual sense_...

Finally, Merrill spoke up. "That's...not right, is it? Doesn't feel right..."

"No...no it's not." Garrett shook his head.

8

8

8

_Thank you to Abydos Jackson for hanging in there._


	29. Chapter 29

Garrett was afraid.

It was not the panic of some sudden danger that was the flavour he usually felt, but a dark pit in his stomach, a dread of what was to come. He usually never had to feel that, he prepared and planned for nearly every situation, and once he had his plan, he could calmly walk into – _nearly, obviously_ – anything. Yet despite having planned meticulously – what to say, what arguments to use, how to frame his case – that dark serpent of fear was wrapped tightly around his gut, making it hard to focus on anything but the beads of sweat running down his spine.

He didn't much care for it.

He had chosen to come in chainmail and wearing his sword, not because he thought he could fight his way out if things turned awry – he was no legendary hero of old, after all – but because the Arishok was a warrior, and seemed to hold respect for others of his profession...at least as long as they were men, if Aveline was to be believed. His shield he'd left behind though, not only because he already had enough burdens, but because he didn't want to appear _too_ ready for battle...it was a fine balance he was walking, and he was well aware of the fact that a sidestep to either way would mean his head ended on a pike.

_I know what to do, I just need to do it_. The thought didn't bring much comfort.

In front of him, the Qunari guard was looking down at him, his stoic eyes betraying nothing as his gaze wandered from the cloth-covered bundle in Garrett's hands to his face. _Maker, it's covered in sweat, I can feel it_... The larger warrior paid no heed to that though, his face unreadable as he took a step back, straightening. "You may enter, bas."

At his words, the heavy iron gate behind him silently swung open, the guards pulling them standing in attention with their spears, seemingly cool even in the stifling autumn heat that had descended upon the city. Garrett, feeling a sting of jealousy in the furnace that was his armour, forced himself to move forward.

As he entered the Qunari compound, Garrett's knees nearly turned to water. _Maker, please, in the name of Andraste and all your faithful disciples, I do not wish to die, not here, not for this, not for a false servant of yours_...

They had cornered Petrice...though 'cornered' was perhaps a strong word, she'd had a few quiet Templars nearby, and had been in a quiet area of the Chantry, with many Priestesses around to bear witness if there was any violence.

Whatever warmth Mother Petrice had conjured up when hiring the group had been gone. Her eyes had been like two pieces of flint, her features taut with scorn, cruelty and conviction...and her words had been like knives. She had without hesitation admitted to leading the Qunari and Garrett's group into a confrontation. She had admitted to having freed the Sareebas and shackled him with runes without a hint of shame. She had admitted that he and his ilk had been expendable to her, a way to start a war, to create yet more tension with the Qunari.

Garrett had barely been able to stop Carver from punching her teeth in. He'd recognised the truth in her words though, that no one would believe a few elves, a dwarf known by the Kirkwall Guard and a Ferelden-born living in the slums over a Mother of the faith...and had tried to smooth things over as much as possible as he brimmed with rage over how close she'd been to getting him and his killed. He'd gotten their payment, and that had been the end of that...or so he fervently wished as he walked into the Qunari compound._ If I die for her political machinations_..._Maker, it would be an __unkindness to my family_..._please_..._I don't want to die like this_...

Garrett had never believed in the power of prayer though, and the words gave little comfort. _If He's all powerful, He already knows_..._the die has been cast._

It was always a shock to come from the Kirkwall docks to the Qunari compound. It was no Hightown, but within the compound the streets were _clean_, everything _orderly_, the paint on the walls new, the roofs properly tended to...it was like looking at a different Kirkwall, one almost _beautiful_ despite the modest buildings and streets within.

There were only a few Qunari standing guard around the small plaza some had jokingly started calling the 'Qunari audience chamber'...their eyes were following Garrett, cold and emotionless. Far to Garrett's right – much to his surprise – half a dozen elves were busy hanging up laundry, though they had stopped now that they'd spotted him. Their gaunt features marked them as Alienage elves, but these had nothing of the whipped look most had when around humans. They were openly staring at him, resentfully narrowing their eyes as hands tightened into fists. _The Qunari are taking in elves now_? _Why_? Garrett tried to pay the staring men no heed, but that proved hard as one dropped a hand to the dagger in his belt, gripping it tightly.

With an effort of will, Garrett kept moving, struggling not to lick his lips and further reveal how nervous he was.

In the air, there was the scent of freshly baked bread. The Qunari bought the ingredients for all they ate and made their food themselves...still, they paid well for good ingredients, freely handing out credit one could use in Par Volen or Seheron. And as every merchant worth his salt knew, Qunari credits were worth their weight in gold. Always honoured, they led to holds brimming with spices that sold for millions all around Thedas.

There was also the sound of a hammer striking steel, of a forge at work – day and night, some said – on forging...Garrett couldn't say what. He agreed with Viscount Dumar who had expressed displeasure with selling iron ore to the Qunari, though the man hadn't dared go so far as to forbid it...and no doubt such a ruling would have fallen on deaf ears. When gold was involved, the nobles easily ignored their Viscount. _Hopefully, it's nothing martial, there's enough tension as it is_.

Tension Garrett now personally felt, like a great weight, pushing down on him, squeezing him until he was the size of an ant as he marched to what might well be his doom. He had prepared extensively, questioned Fenris to the point that the elf had started sneering at him, repeated his plan to himself a thousand times...even tried to prepare for the alien reasoning the Qunari used. _But how do you prepare for something you don't understand_? Every time Garrett thought of his idea, of how to _reason_ with the Arishok...he couldn't help but see the Sareebas burning to ash in front of his eyes. _This is a fool's errand_.

Yet there was no choice, not if he wanted his family to be safe, and especially not now, with the gate closing behind him.

He moved forward.

Ahead, atop a small dais, seated on a simple wooden bench that seemed a throne when he used it, the Arishok looked down on Garrett. One arm was resting on his knee, the other was hanging limp, the man a statue in all but his eyes, eyes as calm as a still sea as they watched Garrett approach.

Finally, judging himself to be at a respectful distance, Garrett stopped and held back the impulse to kneel, knowing the Qunari put no worth in such gestures.

Silence.

Garrett felt more than a dozen pair of eyes on him, the angry stares of elves boring into his back as uncomfortable as the calm looks of the Qunari guards. And the Arishok...his eyes were so steady, so focused...Garrett felt himself shrink even further under their scrutiny. His voice was sombre, the deep timbre commanding respect as if he'd been born with it. "You are familiar, present yourself."

Garrett swallowed, his back drenched in sweat that had suddenly turned cool enough to make him shiver. "Garrett Hawke." At least his voice was steady, if smaller than usual. "I was the sellsword with the merchant Javaris."

"Ah, yes, the dwarf of wide mouth and narrow mind." If it was a joke, the Arishok wasn't laughing, and Garrett found no impulse to do so himself, not while standing in the middle of the plaza, moments from what could be his death. "You were paid, human, why do you come? There is no gold to be found in the Qun. Nothing we require of you, and all we have to offer is the Qun." He gestured at the elves at the corner, elves still glaring at them, the one with the dagger still stroking the handle, making Garrett shiver as he turned back to regard the Arishok. "Or have you come here to...trade?" The Arishok spoke the last word with a hint of distaste, as if the word didn't quite fit his mouth and left a sour taste behind.

"N-no...no I have not." Garrett took a deep breath, trying to still his rapidly beating heart, and failing. "I come...on a different errand." Another deep breath...his hands trembling...and he let the content of his blanket spill out on the ground. _Maker_, _please_...

The large black swords fell to the ground with a clatter.

Then silence descended upon the plaza, a _tense_ silence.

Garrett felt the Kossith guards shift their grips on their spears, muscles tensing as the statues they had been became ready to move forth, their calm eyes now holding a fire deep within, a fire directed at Garrett. The elves had taken several steps forward, the one with the dagger having drawn his weapon, the others looking as if they wouldn't need one.

Garrett felt all that, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling even as he felt every bead of sweat on his skin like little needles, dragging their points over his flesh like daggers.

_I will not beg for mercy_..._mostly because it wouldn't work_...

He licked his lips.

The Arishok remained still though, all save the eyes, looking down at the swords, then back up to Garrett. When his mouth moved, it was like watching a statue come to life. "Nine swords, the only group I have sent out of that number is a Karaatam in search of a Sareebas." He shifted in his seat, leaning closer. There was no narrowing of his eyes, no shift in his tone, yet his words sent a shiver down Garrett's spine. "Explain this."

All Garrett's preparations, all his arguments, his _plan_...it was suddenly lost to him, his mind drawing a blank where it had been just a moment ago. Eyes wide, panic gripping him, he swallowed. "They're...dead."

Behind him, the elves hissed, their stares making Garrett's skin prickle in fear.

"Obviously, they would not have been separated from their Asala otherwise." _Asala, soul, the swords, the soul of the warriors, as Fenris said_... Garrett licked his lips, the fragment of Fenris' lesson not really helping at the moment. "I thank you for returning them, a lost Asala is a shame upon their bearer and the Qun." The Arishok's thanks sounded empty though, a courtesy, nothing more._ Better than not bringing them, at least_. "But _how_ did they die?"

_Andraste, please_... Garrett felt every eye on him. The Arishok seemed to see right through him, seeing the truth before it even spilled from Garrett's lips. "I killed them."

The elves drew nearer with a growl...and the Arishok's gaze shifted, narrowing at them...and Garrett struggled not to collapse in relief as the elves retreated from his unguarded back. _Too close_... Then, the narrowed eyes turned back to him. _Maker, creator of all, for the love you bear humanity, don't_ - "You? Alone?"

"No, but I command. I bear responsibility." Garrett swallowed, straightening as best he could. _There, I said it, might be I just saved Bethany and Carver_...

The Arishok nearly seemed pleased by the answer. "Agreed, such are the ways of war." _Thank the Maker_! Relief flooded Garrett...and then the Arishok's eyes flashed. "_You_ are responsible for their deaths."

Garrett felt all colour drain from his face. He had no answer to that, no rebuttal, his mind frozen, quavering in fear deep within his skull.

The Arishok leaned back, calm once more, but there was an edge to his voice, like a razor aimed at the human before him. "They sought a Sareebas."

"Y-yes..." Realising the Arishok was giving him his cue to speak, Garrett cleared his throat as best he could, his windpipe painfully tight. "And they found it, with us..."_ Maker, I'm shaking_! He tried to still himself, but couldn't, the steady gaze of the Arishok draining all courage from him. "We...I...had been hired to bring the Sareebas out of Kirkwall, to free him."

"It was _already_ free." The Arishok grunted.

"Yes..._it_ said so." Garrett grimaced at the word. "Once it was capable of speaking that is, it had been silenced by runes while we escorted it...and even if it had not, I doubt it would have spoken, it...obeyed." Garrett hoped that would please the Arishok, perhaps even distract him from those Garrett had slain...though he knew that was a vain hope. "It followed the Qun...ending its own life."

"Of course." The Arishok nodded. "I would not dishonour it by expecting anything else." His gaze was steady on Garrett. "And neither should you."

"I find little honour in suicide." Garrett nearly bit his tongue as the words slipped out before he could stop them. "I mean...errr..."

"I do not expect you to think as we do, Hawke." The Arishok grunted. "You are still Basra."

_Still_? Garrett bowed his head, struggling once more not to bow in supplication. _Maker, I don't know where I have this man_! _He's impossible to read_! "_Basvaarad_, the Sareebas called me."

"Did it?" The Arishok arched an eyebrow, though if it was in surprise or some other cue, Garrett couldn't tell. A hum escaped the Qunari. "Do you know what that means?"

"Bas is foreigner..."_ A __polite__ translation, according to Fenris_. "...and varaad is derived from Arvaraad, the one guarding the Sareebas."

"One worthy of following, by a Sareebas..." The Arishok tilted his head to his side, watching Garrett as a man would a fly. "...curious, I did not think any in this city could best a Karataam, nor be considered Basvaraad, or defeat Tal-Vashoth. You, Hawke, are different."

_Different __good__, or different 'a threat to destroy'_? Garrett forced himself to incline his head in a nod though, his voice almost steady. "Thank you."

"Facts are nothing to thank someone for, they simply _are_." The Arishok dismissed Garrett's words with a wave of his hand. "Tell me more. The Arvaraad demanded the return of the Sarebaas as the Qun commands, and you...?"

"Denied them. I had hoped they'd back down, knowing that they were in a bad position..." Garrett forced him to say, feeling the elves still glaring daggers at his back. _If the Arishok orders my death, they will be the first to reach me_..."My contract was to take the Sareebas to safety, I honour my contracts."

"For whatever honour there is in fighting for coin." The Arishok snorted, then inclined his head. "Still you acted as you must, as did the Arvaraad, the conflict could not be avoided."

"That...was what the Arvaraad said." Garrett admitted, grimacing at the memory. "I do not agree, I tried to avoid the conflict, truly."

"Agree or not, the events could not fall differently, only the outcome surprises me." The Arishok nodded. "The Sarebaas is gone, the conflict is resolved."

Silence.

Garrett sensed the elves looking at one another in confusion even as the other Qunari stepped down from their high alert. _What_..._just_ _happened_? "Just like that? You aren't...angry?" Garrett was too confused to be relieved, though his legs remained watery, barely able to hold him up.

"All acted with honour and did what they must. There is nothing to be angry about." The Arishok replied, eyeing Garrett calmly. "However, I will be watching. If you make yourself an enemy of the Qun you _will_ be dealt with." _So_..._if I kill them on my own volition_? _Without honour demanding it_? Garrett frowned, confused, yet by now relief was starting to trickle in, making him sway where he stood as the realisation that he wouldn't die started to sink in. "Is there anything else?"

"No." The word came quickly, Garrett far too eager to leave, to reach _safety_...yet a part of him made him linger, to speak up. "Actually...yes." The Arishok arched an eyebrow. "My contract...she led your Arvaarad to my location, she _wanted_ the conflict." The Arishok looked back at him, not looking nearly as bothered as Garrett had expected. "She's a Mother in the Chantry, apparently part of a faction wanting to stir up conflict with the Qunari, to eject you from the city."

The Arishok snorted, leaning back in his seat. "These groups and _factions_...they all merge together in one filthy morass. At Seheron there is only the Qun, but _here_...here the illusions of beliefs are as many as the people in this city." A shake of his head. "If this Mother wishes to force us out, she should come here and try and force us herself."

_Priestesses don't carry swords_... Garrett didn't say it, knowing the Arishok didn't care for the strange world he was in. "She will not do that, she will stay in the shadows, continuing to stir up resentment of your people, to turn people against you and create a war."

"Our enemies stay in the shadows because they cannot truly harm us." The Arishok calmly replied, making Garrett frown. _Tell that to the Arvaarad_. "They are of no concern for the Antaam, the Qunari army does not battle _shadows_." A snort. "We will continue to act according to the Qun, with honour..." The Arishok eyed Garrett with narrowed eyes. "If there will ever be a war, it will _not_ be the Qunari who start it."

"That's what I fear. I do not wish for a war within the city walls."

"Wishes are but dust in the wind." The Arishok shrugged. "I cannot do anything against those acting in the shadows, but once they enter the light, I _will_ destroy them."

"If you can." Garrett warned, worried by the implications of the Arishok's words.

The Qunari nodded. "If I can. Now _go_, you have done what you came for, and your words of this sick city will not make it any better."

"As you wish." Garrett offered a stiff bow, then beat a retreat, doing his best to ignore the glaring elves as he headed for the relative safety of the Kirkwall docks.

When he got outside, he stopped, head tilting back as he gave voice to a deep sigh of relief, feeling as if he'd been holding his breath throughout the talks with the Qunari. A feeling as if it was all an unreal dream descending upon him.

_I'm_..._alive_?

8

8

8

The group ghosted forward.

Garrett was suspicious of their current job-offer, fearing a trap. Who wouldn't, with a letter slipped under the door at night, promising an ample reward to someone that had proved willing to aid mages in need? As such, none of his siblings, despite their protests, came along for this job, Garrett wouldn't risk it, not with such circumstances. The only member of the family he'd brought was Maric who lay beside him. The dog would be capable of running back home and warning the others if the group stumbled into the trap.

Still, if the offer _was_ genuine, it would be enough to take them past the fifty Sovereigns mark...and Garrett couldn't let such an opportunity go, not when they were running out of time.

Varric was off with Bartrand, trying to stall the dwarf a bit longer, convincing him there would be no need to go with less than a full investment in equipment, that Garrett would come through for them. Though that was a tall order, Garrett had refused Varric to offer a down payment, for while he was by now convinced of their need to go on the expedition, Garrett wasn't about to leave Bartrand with a large sum of his money without Garrett himself being around to keep an eye on the dwarf. _With Varric __maybe_..._Bartrand_..._not_ _a_ _chance_..._and whatever Varric says, he's no famil_y. An image of Gamlen flickered before Garrett's vision, making him grimace and cock his head. _Well_..._close_ _family_.

Nor was Aveline with them...and Garrett _disliked_ that. _We do too many jobs that circumvent the law, it's dangerous and_..._well I could use her_. It bothered him, but even though he'd seen her at their last dinner, he was actually _missing_ her. _Too little time to take council thanks to mother hogging the woman's attention_..._shame she couldn't come, Aveline would have been far easier to be with than these others_...

The others were right behind him.

Merrill and Anders had both volunteered their service for a tiny cut, the later always willing to help a fellow mage, the former...well Garrett wasn't sure, just...helpful?_ I don't understand that elf, she doesn't seem to have an agenda, despite the blood magic and._.._elvenness_..._it puts me on edge_._ Is she just trying to be helpful, as she says_? _That_ _seems_..._implausible_..._she's up to something, and I don't like it_.

Fenris and Isabela had demanded a larger cut, and Garrett had – after some haggling and counting to ensure there would be enough of a profit for him – agreed to it under the proviso, a word Isabela still hatedfor some reason, that he'd only pay them if there actually _was_ a job to be had. The former was currently in a glaring contest with Anders, while the later... "What's going on?" In a crouch, Isabela moved up to his other side, making Garrett realise he was flanked by a hound and what Carver had summarized as a 'bitch in heat'. Garrett didn't find that too amusing though, and shot the other woman a curt nod. He still thought her careless and foolish...but not many could take a javelin to the leg and then come back for more, _especially_ still dressed in that ridiculous outfit of hers...it was reckless, but worthy of respect. _She doesn't scare easily, that's for sure_.

"I'm not sure." Garrett replied, looking ahead. They were close to Sundermount, but on the wrong side, meaning they'd likely not bump into any Dalish, for which Garret was thankful, one was annoying enough. With all the trees and boulders around, it was difficult drawing a clear line of sight at anything ahead, but Garrett was sure he'd seen a flash of steel not too far away, just below the little hill they'd crested. "Think I saw someone."

"Oh, you mean that Templar over there?" Isabela pointed, and as Garrett followed her finger, he noticed the tiniest of glitters behind two bushes...he shot her a look, equally questioning and surprised, making her chuckle and shrug. "Pirate."

"Meaning...?" Garrett arched an eyebrow.

The pirate rolled her eyes. "Meaning my eyes are drawn to _shiny_ things!" She made an exaggerated gesture at the gaudy necklace hanging down her neckline, making Garrett struggle not to glance – he wasn't like Carver, but he was still a man, and the woman was too much in his face to be ignored – much to Isabela's obvious amusement._ Maybe Carver wasn't wrong_... "And any pirate worth their boots knows how to tell 'fancy' shiny from '_dangerous_' shiny..." Her amusement fading a little, the Rivaini turned back to the glitter ahead, eyes narrowing. "Only looks like the one though...why would a lone Templar be out here?"

"He's waiting." Garrett replied, suddenly putting two and two together. "Waiting for us." He rose to his feet, Isabela swiftly following as the others looked up at them, sensing something was about to happen. Raising his voice, Garrett advanced. "Come on, let's see what Thrask has to say..."

In moments, they'd reached the bottom of the little hill and pushed their way through the foliage marking the edge of the small road Garrett had chosen – given his fear for a trap – not to walk on for their last mile. Beyond the undergrowth, the road had been reduced to a narrow path of packed earth with an overgrown ditch on either side...and even that ended as the road turned into a small sandy field in front of a mound of moss-covered rocks with a wide opening in its centre. _A cave_.

Before it Thrask stood, eyes wide as he turned to face the group suddenly appearing, though his relief was palpable as he recognised them. The man was as Garrett remembered him from their hunt of Feynriel. Long coppery hair, a closely cropped beard with the odd streak of grey, and eyes so blue and screaming out his emotions that it was a wonder if he'd ever managed a lie in his life."Ah, you got my letter, I was beginning to fear you wouldn't come." 

"It takes a few hours to gather my people." Garrett replied, coming to a stop before Thrask, wary as he always was around his kind. "Especially if you have to leave the same day, more of a warning would have gone a long way." 

"There was no time, unfortunately, I only recently got my orders myself." Thrask shifted, looking uncomfortable as he eyed the group at Garrett's back. "How...how's Feynriel?"

And no wonder. Maric was watching the man as warily as Garrett, Isabela as if she wanted to eat his eyes, Fenris with a disapproving frown and Anders with open _hostility_. Only Merrill seemed somewhat friendly, though that was hard to tell given the way she was shyly hiding behind Isabela._ At least she's taken the lessons of the dangers of Templars to heart_... "He's safe." Garrett replied, not about to waste more time on discussing unimportant things after their long trek.

"And far from your _Circle_." Anders just had to add, the mage hissing the last word as if it was a curse.

"Good." Thrask nodded, eyes looking pleased...and somewhat amused by the way his answer made Anders blink. "The Circle is good for many, it gives them a home, a place to learn...but it's not for everyone, I know that." He hesitated, then glanced at the cave. "Also, it breeds hostility between the Templars and mages that need not be, to the point that some believe it's a relationship between jailers and jailed."

"It _is_." Anders growled, arms crossed over his chest as Garrett sighed. _I_..._understand your position, but must you drone about it at the worst of times_...?

"It has become such in many places, yes." Thrask allowed, a sliver of impatience in his eyes. "It need not be so, but now it is...and that's a dangerous situation, creating conflicts, like this situation we're now in."

"You are in." Garrett corrected, though he didn't move, save cocking his head to the side. "That is, if your payment is good." He spoke before Thrask could reply. "_And_ I judge the task doable."

"Of course." Thrask nodded, pulling a pouch free from his belt, a thick pouch. "Your payment." Without hesitation, he handed it over to Garrett. "All I promised." Garrett didn't bother counting the coins, there was no lie in Thrask's eyes. "Now, could we get to the point? There is precious little time." He glanced at the cave, then down the road leading to it, the impatience in his eyes growing.

_Hmm_..._don't like this_. The pouch in his hand was heavy though, and Garrett found his reluctance defeated by its weight. "Give me the story."

"Two weeks ago, there was a fire in the Circle at Starkhaven and a dozen mages fled the tower in the confusion-" Thrask began.

Only for Anders to chime in. "Good, every free mage is another out of the Chantry's tyranny."

Fenris frowned at that, shaking his head. "Free to create their coven, you mean? Start what might be another Tevinter empire? Mages ruling everyone else like slaves. I'm sure you'd welcome such a change without hesitation."

"Everyone deserves to be free, don't try and twist my-"

"Enough." Garrett growled the word, silencing them both. _I knew bringing them both to this was a mistake_..._at least they'll be professional once we get going_. "Please continue, Thrask."

"The Starkhaven Templars have been tracking these mages and requested that Kirkwall would assist once it was clear the mages were heading that way." Thrask grimaced. "A forester caught sight of the mages hiding here and Meredith sent word to the Starkhaven task-force and sent me here to guard the entrance to the cave."

"Alone?" Fenris asked, surprised. "Mages are a dangerous thing, Templar."

Anders hissed, but Thrask was quicker to reply. "I might not look like much, but my ability to subdue mages is near second to none." There was no lie, nor any pride, in the statement. "If they came to the surface, I could well kill them with a strong enough smite...I do not wish that to happen, but it might be that they'd force me, if they came out." Again, no lie. "However, once the Starkhaven Templars arrive...they're led by Ser _Karras_, a Templar known for his harsh take on mages. He'd order a bloody assault that would kill all the mages without a second thought."

Anders was shaking his head. "So either they die, or they die...you Templars always give mages so many choices."

"They could have chosen to stay." Fenris growled.

Before the argument could resume, Garrett spoke up, focused on Thrask. "You want us to get them."

"I do." Thrask confirmed with a nod. "If they see me, they'll panic and try to resist, and I'm unsure how bloody such an event would be. If Karras comes, they'll die for sure. _You_, however, are no Templar, and you even have mages with you." He nodded at Merrill and Anders, the former who's eyes bulged in panic. "They hide those energies well, but as I said, I'm powerful in the ways of the Templar." There was no threat in his eyes, no hint of disapproval...so Garrett said nothing, letting the man continue. _Glad I didn't bring Bethany though_..._knew it was too much of a risk_. "I hope you can go in, talk to them, convince them to come out and surrender to me...if they do so, Karras will have no power over them, they'll be my-"

"Prisoners." Anders snarled, making Fenris snort as the two exchanged glares.

"-_charges_." Thrask replied, irritation in his eyes as he shot the two a look before returning to Garrett. "I'll bring them back to the Circle unharmed, make sue their punishment is but the scrubbing of pots...it's the best I can do." He was unsure if he could make the punishment that light, Garrett saw, but sure of bringing them back alive. Thrask then inched closer to Garrett, lowering his voice as his eyes screamed sympathy. "Listen, these mages...they've been out in the woods for two _weeks_. They have never been outside the circle before, never mind in the _wild_...they'll be half-starved, desperate, scared, I've seen it before...they _need_ help. Please...I have no one else to turn to for a peaceful end."

_It's_ _dangerous_. Garrett frowned, worried...twelve mages were dangerous no matter their state or power, _if_ it turned to violence...Garrett didn't much care for those odds. _Too_ _dangerous_? The pouch in his hand pulled down, wanting to attach itself to his belt. _If we don't do this_..._Varric might not be able to stall Bartrand_. His frown deepened as he stared at Thrask's breastplate. _And Karras and his Templars are coming, that makes it even more dangerous_..._if they think we're trying to __help__ the mages_..._it __is__ too dangerous_. Yet the coins weighed heavily, signifying an end to their struggles with raising money, to the next step in the plan, perhaps the only chance they'd have...

_Damn it_.

Garrett raised his eyes, grimly meeting Thrask's hopeful ones. "Very well, you have yourself a deal." He grimaced even as Fenris and Anders both muttered something under their breath, neither fully approving. "We'll do this quickly though, I imagine that Karras would _not_ like outsiders interfering in Templar business?"

Now it was Thrask's turn to grimace. "Not really, no, which is why I had hoped you'd arrive sooner."

"Things don't always happen as we'd like them to."

With those foreboding words, Garrett moved past Thrask and towards the mouth of the cave...

8

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8

_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for being such a stubborn arse._


	30. Chapter 30

"Stay alert." 

Shield held in front of him, falchion resting on the rim, Garrett slowly lead the advance. He knew it was important to keep up the pace. If Karras and his Templars showed up things would get far more difficult...but that didn't mean they should rush in, a stray fireball loosed by a nervous mage would be equally disastrous.

The cave they were in seemed to have been inhabited at some point, the odd wooden board and rusted piece of metal sticking out from the dirt like half-buried skeletons of some ancient time. It was larger than Garrett had expected, a network of wide tunnels leading ever deeper into the ground, and as they kept descending, more remains from the old inhabitants appeared. A broken sickle, a pile of mouldy rags, half a dozen broken...was it metal collars? _Maybe a hiding place for escaped slaves when Kirkwall was Tevinter's_? _Or a storage of them during transport to it_? Garrett threw Fenris a glance, noticing the elf's tightly drawn features, the man had drawn the same conclusion, perhaps even remembering something similar. _Elf better stay focused though, I'm not paying him to whine_.

It was Isabela who spoke up though, amusement in her voice. "Yeah, you never know...could be _spiders_ in here."

_What_? Garrett turned to look at the woman, finding her full lips curled in a shameless smirk. _But you weren't with me when we_..._I see_. Garrett turned his gaze to Merrill, eyes narrowing. The elf was exceedingly busy staring at the ground, looking extremely guilty, the tip of her ears and much of her neck red. _The pirate and the blood-mage elf spending time together, not sure who'll be the worst influence on the other_. Garrett turned back to watch where he was going with a glower, forcing himself to reply. "Yes, there could be." _Actually, there is a fair chance she's right_... Irritated with himself, Garrett threw the ground a nervous glance.

Behind him, Isabela gave voice to a low chuckle.

Anders was not amused though, voice low. "Something isn't right." A sniff. "You sense that, Merrill?"

Garrett, on his guard at the words, looked ahead, noticing the way the tunnel widened into a chamber ahead with apprehension. The ground there consisted of loose sand, the walls hidden in shadows seemingly deeper than they had any right to be. _A trap_?

"Y-yes...it's...strange, yet familiar?" The elf hesitantly replied. Glancing back, Garrett found the woman clutching at her staff that had a spear-tip fastened to it in an effort to make her look like more of a sellsword rather than a mage...though that image was somewhat ruined by the nervous look on her face.

Anders, of course, did not bother heeding Garrett's advice on such, and his staff was carved with jagged symbols similar to the wounds over his skin...wounds now shifting as his features twisted into a grimace. "Familiar?"

Ahead, the ground stirred.

_Oh_...

Near the entrance to the chamber, a skeleton dressed in grey rags rose, sand pouring from holes in its brittle bones, dark eye-sockets staring at Garrett as it raised a broken sickle.

Behind it, more skeletons rose. Knives, cleavers, hammers, scythes, all skeletons carried tools now held as weapons. Several still wore rusted collars around their necks, slaves once more summoned to serve, this time to another master.

..._damn_.

Fenris roared, surging past Garrett, sweeping his long war hammer down on the skeleton as it thrust its sickle at him.

Blood fell from Fenris' side and the skeleton shattered into dust.

Still roaring, the elf charged on, finally making the others move to follow. Fenris had a good head start though, and surged forward, a horizontal sweep sending three skeletons flying despite their attempts to block the swing. One leapt forth, swinging its scythe down on Fenris' head, only for him to bash the swing aside with the head of his war hammer before shattering its skull with the butt of its haft, his voice a snarl. "Filthy mages...!"

Anders' answer was a growl, the mage hurling a fireball over Fenris' head, the missile exploding at the centre of the chamber and immolating a near dozen skeletons as their dry bones went up like kindling.

"Sorry!" Merrill's cry was high-pitched and came with a bolt of lightning that struck a skeleton square in the chest, shattering it, slivers of its bones making two more fall to the ground as they were struck by the fragments.

"I'm not!" Isabela cried, a grin in her voice as she darted past Fenris. Her knives flashed, breaking the ribs of two skeletons and driving them onto their back. Then she leaned backwards under the swing of a third skeleton's axe, her left foot kicking up high, turning her opponent's jaw to dust.

With Isabela reinforcing Fenris slightly to the right, and Merrill clearly fixed on those trying to move in on the right, Garrett moved to the left.

There, a skeleton raised a massive smith's hammer...and then stumbled, its leg pulled out from under it by Maric as the dog lunged past Garrett...who split the skeleton's head in two with a single swing.

The next skeleton leaned forward and thrust a knife after Maric, only for the dog to duck back as Garrett swung at the exposed foe, cutting its arm off at the elbow and smashing it apart with his shield as he charged forward. Another tried to swing a hammer at his head, only to strike Garrett's shield before it was pulled down as Maric bulled right through it. The one after that brought down a short axe at Maric before the dog could pull out of the remains of its comrade, but Garrett caught the blow with an outstretched falchion, forced his foe's arm upwards and swung his shield, splitting its skull with the rim.

And then it was suddenly over.

Looking around himself, Garrett lowered his sword, seeing nothing but his group standing in a fine cloud of grey dust, the shattered undead once more in the ground. _Best not try to think of what the dust is made off_. Garrett spat out a phlegm of grey spit. "Fenris, you're okay?"

"Huh?" The elf looked up from where he was staring at the ground, gaze dull. "I'm fine, why?" He didn't even seem to notice the wound in his side. "I'm fine." He looked back down to the broken bones, the dull look slowly replaced by one of anger. "I'm _fine_."

_Don't look fine_. Garrett shrugged. He didn't overly care for Fenris, an elf that didn't even _try_ to be liked, his only good feature being honest about who he was, unlike Merrill. "As you say, everyone else unharmed?" There was a string of affirmatives, spoken from mouths gasping for air after the sudden skirmish. Time to rethink this. "Right, the mages are hostile _and_ using blood magic, we're pulling out. Let Karras deal with this."

Anders glared at him at that. Merrill stared in horror and Fenris looked grim but satisfied.

The voice speaking up though, was another one, uncertain and small. "A-actually...we're n-not..."

As one, the group turned to the far end of the chamber, weapons at the ready.

The dark-skinned man in a torn circle robe stepping out of the shadows held his trembling hands up though, his features gaunt and haggard, the whites in his eyes large with fear. "I...I surrender..." He looked over the bones strewn over the ground and licked his lips, eyes widening even further. "I...I've been trying to surrender for hours now..."

"Oh sure, now you say that. Would that still have been true, had we died?" Fenris snorted, making the mage whimper.

Anders shook his head though. "No, I don't believe that. This magic...we triggered it, it's still lingering, it had to be cast a few days ago."

Fenris rolled his eyes, but the mage was nodding. "Y-yes...De-Decimus said...h-he th-thought they were getting cl-closer...he...he won't let us leave now..." He shook his head. "He...he's crazy...thinks we should start a _war_..." Fenris shot Anders a smug look, making the mage glare back. "B-but I just wanted to...I don't know anymore...I...I want to go home..." The mage whimpered, closing his eyes. "I'm so _hungry_..."

"Decimus? Who is he?" Garrett lowered his sword, but only an inch, and took a step closer to the mage. _Bethany needs five seconds to cast a spell, I could close this distance in three_... He eyed the mage, not about to lower his guard just yet. Weakened or not, he was still dangerous if he snapped. "He's your leader?"

"He...he started the _fire_..." The circle mage replied, nodding, eager to please. "He said we could be _free_..." The man clutched at his stomach, grimacing. "...I don't _feel_ free..." _Of course not, we're all slaves to our needs_.

Anders grunted in annoyance. "Of course not, you need time to learn, to-"

"So Decimus is the one who cast this spell? He's the blood-mage?" Garrett interrupted, not about to allow more arguments in the ranks. "What of the others?"

"They...they're tired..." Hesitantly, the man lowered his hands, body seemingly becoming smaller as he slouched, taking a deep breath, a glitter of hope in his eyes. "...Decimus keeps them around, telling them he's their leader...he's...he's more like their jailer...I had to sneak out, but couldn't get past these...these _guards_..." He glanced back down at the corpses, then back up to Garrett. "They want to go home too...please, they...they're not bad people..."

"I see." Garrett frowned, thinking. _That changes thing, one mage instead of twelve, but a blood-mage_..._one_ _man_ _though_. "Go on, outside a Templar named Thrask will be waiting, surrender to him."

The man gasped in relief, nearly slumping to his knees even as Fenris shot Garrett a frown. "Oh thank you, thank you!"

Not wasting another breath, the man ran for it. 

In moments, the sound of him running faded away.

Garrett, still frowning, looked at where the mage had come from, unsure, yet unable to convince himself to turn away. "Right, we have a single hostile mage, we're going to take him out and free the others." Garrett nodded to himself. _Simple, a man dies easily, __if__ we can get to him_... "We go in as quietly as we can, they might have heard the fighting..."_ Likely, actually_. "But they don't know who we are or how many. All of us will focus on killing Decimus, once he's gone, whatever more he has summoned to face us will be a non-issue." Fenris looked sullen, Merrill unsure, Anders torn...and Garrett ignored them all. "Let's go."

He moved forward.

And behind him, Merrill piped up as the others followed. "So...he's their jailer...? After they escaped the Circle? Isn't that...erm...a little ironic?"

Garrett frowned, having wondered if anyone else had noticed that, but not expecting it to be the daft elf. "Indeed."

8

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8

_Come on, come on_...

A tense pit was in Garrett's stomach, one beyond the regular fear a man felt when in combat. It was the fear of a battle in the balance, of staying on the precipice of disaster.

The last chamber of the cave was shaped like a shallow boat, with the middle approach to the far side being a wide expanse of gravel and dirt set lower than the rest of the cave. The left approach was far narrower, though much of it was concealed by stalactites that had melted together over centuries, creating an inner wall covered with jagged holes for most of the approach. The right approach had no such wall, and was barely more than a narrow path, nearly too small even for a single person.

As such, to get to Decimus at the far end of the chamber, after a tactical discussion with Anders, Garrett had chosen to split his forces. Decimus was a mage, but only one man, and as such the more he had to split his attention, the more vulnerable he was. So Garrett had taken Anders and Fenris with him and charged down the centre, he and the elf charging down into the expanse while the mage stayed in the rear to support them. He'd sent Isabela up on the left approach, her knives flashing, while Merrill was given the right.

Decimus was defending himself well though, _too_ well. Atop a small rise at the far end of the cave, the man had those he professed to protect kneeling in the dirt, clutching at their heads, blood dripping from their noses and ears as purple energy rose like smoke from their heads. It coiled together and formed a shimmering dome around them as Decimus stood before them. The dome had deflected three lightning bolts from Merrill before Garrett had shouted at her to target something else, his hope for destroying the mage with a quick stroke in tatters.

His eyes alight with a crimson red, Decimus held his bleeding hands out, an utterly mad laugh escaping him as he gestured left and right, casting spells as if it was not the slightest effort._ Blood mage filth_. Garrett narrowed his eyes even as he leant back, taking a hammer to his shield before shattering the skull of the attacking skeleton with his falchion. He'd put himself slightly at the back, guarding Anders, since the mage was far more effective versus the hordes of dry bones Decimus had awakened in the centre with his devastating fireballs. Even better, Merrill was stopping many of the horde from moving with her vines, making them easy targets for Garrett's other mage.

Fenris was not as tactical. The elf had taken up a surprisingly fine greatsword he'd found during their approach and claimed it as his part of the loot, and though Garrett hadn't liked losing such a good weapon to an elf when Carver would have loved it, he could not stop Fenris from taking what he wanted. Fenris was using the weapon to great effect though, two-handed sweeps smashing aside multiple dead before they could even get in range to attack, their clumsy movements and mindlessness making for easy targets for the master swordsman.

Garrett's attention wasn't on fighting though, his gaze taking in Decimus' mad eyes moving from the centre to Isabela. Blood was, like a snake, coiling around the man's right forearm, and he thrust it out towards the pirate, making yet more skeletons rise from the ground before her. She merely laughed at the opposition though, most of her battle concealed behind stalagmites, knives flashing past the holes in the wall of stalagmites at times, followed by the crunch and clatter of breaking bones. Decimus, growling something intelligible, was moving his arms again, making downed skeletons in the centre rise once more while yet more joined those taking on Isabela.

Garrett, judging the time was right, called out. "Maric, Isabela, Merrill, _now_!"

Casting a final lightning bolt across the chamber – shattering part of the wall of stalagmites and sending fragments of rocks smashing through the undead lining up to take on the pirate – Merrill took a step back, pressing her back against the wall as Maric suddenly bulled past her, the dog sprinting down the narrow path without hesitation.

Then the dog suddenly whimpered, coming to a full stop, dropping down onto his belly as one of Decimus hands glowed red, pointing a curved finger at the hound. _Maric_! Garrett began to move forward, hands gripping his sword tighter.

At the other side, Isabela, kicking aside the last skeleton, rushed forward, knife hurtling through the air, making Decimus grunt in pain and surprise as it cut his neck, making arterial blood spurt out. _Yes_!

The blood pouring from Decimus's throat curled around him though, fluttering like a scarf in the wind, as his other hand shot out, making Isabela shriek as she dropped onto her knees, clutching at her head. _No_! _Wait, both his hands are_...

"Fenris! _Forward_!" Garrett charged, slamming his shield into a skeleton trying to reach the elf, then cut the leg off a second as he ducked low under its swing.

The elf didn't need to be told twice. His tattoos glowing, Fenris ploughed forward, breaking through the skeletons with a single swing and a fireball from Anders hurtling over his head. Without Decimus reinforcing those troops anymore, there was no more undead rising to block the elf's advance...and the mage didn't even _see_ Fenris until they were face to face.

Decimus's eyes opened wide, a grunt escaping his open mouth.

Fenris' tattoos shimmered, his eyes flashing in rage.

The undead crumpled to dust.

And then Fenris wrenched his sword free from Decimus' gut with a sucking sound, making blood flood out as the mage slumped to his knees, the glow in his eyes fading as he stared up at Fenris, the elf glaring back.

Growling, Fenris swung his sword high, then down.

Decimus' head hit the ground.

Taking a deep breath, relieved, Garrett strode forward as fast as he could, eyes fixed on the remaining mages even as he spoke. "Maric, Isabela, you two okay?"

"I...I think so?" Isabela muttered, sounding groggy. "Feels like I've just woken up from a binge night at the Hanged man..."

Maric gave voice to a woof, tired but calm.

"Good." Ahead, Fenris was glowering down at the remaining ten mages, making them shirk back, forgetting about the blood under their noses and ears as they watched far more drip from Fenris' sword. It was pointedly still levelled at them as he defiantly glared at them as if expecting them to rise up and attack at any moment. "Fenris, calm down, victory is ours."

A growl, deep from within Fenris' throat...and he lowered the weapon an inch. "We'll see, they were used by a blood mage, they're rebellious mages...make your own conclusions."

Anders snorted, but before he could reply, Garrett snapped. "I see ten half-starved men and women cowering before an armed elf, hoping he doesn't gut them." He narrowed his eyes. "Sheathe that blade."

Fenris glared at him.

Garrett glared back.

Slowly, _very_ slowly, Fenris lowered the blade.

Then he snorted and stalked away, pulling out a rag stuck in his belt and sweeping it over his sword with a grumble. "This will be our undoing, I know it..."

In contrast, Anders mutter was encouraging. "You're doing the right thing, Garrett."

He shook off both men's words and continued onward, raising his voice as he eyed the remaining mages. "You there, rise, you're safe now...as long as you behave." Next to him Maric appeared, the Mabari silently stalking forward, all lean muscle, ready to pounce should anyone get any ideas, and _showing_ it.

The mages, slowly rising to their feet, eyed the dog, some with fear, but most with empty eyes, too tired to care. The one standing at the front was a slim redhead though, and she was the only one with a glitter of awareness in her eyes, however tired they may be. "You...you're not Templars...De-Decimus said..."

"There's a Templar outside." Garrett said before she could continue, not about to waste more time when Karras and his fellow Templars were coming. "He sent us in to stop things from turning into a battle." Garrett shot the broken skeletons around them a pointed look, then Decimus' head. "But that's over with now, isn't it?" He arched an eyebrow, looking back to the woman.

Who swallowed. "I...I...yes..._over_. We surr-" She blinked. "_A_ Templar? Just one? Couldn't...couldn't you...is there nothing we can..."

"Ten free for a single man dead." Anders put the words into the mouth of the woman.

Garrett rolled his eyes, but he didn't deign to even glance at Anders. "Templars have no possessions." He knew the others would frown at that, confused, but he was used to explaining himself, so continued. "Which means he got the gold he paid us with from the order, and Thrask can't tell a lie, so he told them he was hiring mercenaries. What do you think happens when they find him dead and the mages gone? They'll launch an investigation."

"But surely-"

"We're _not_ killing a Templar." Garrett snapped, his glower making the woman before him shirk back a step. He'd had far too many sleepless nights over those Templars they'd been forced to kill before, of the danger his family had been in. "Besides, I thought you'd be _against_ killing one of the mage-_friendly_ Templars in the city?"

Anders and the woman snorted as one, the later shaking her head as well. "Friendly? What do you know of how some Templars treat us? You think-"

"Or perhaps we should just turn back?" Garrett interrupted, narrowing his eyes at her. "Leave and let Ser _Karras_ and his men clean up this mess when they arrive?"

The woman's eyes grew wide as saucers.

Garrett cocked his head to the side, forcing his face to remain grim. _If Bethany saw me now_..._no, don't think on it, I'm doing this for her and our family, I can't risk enraging bringing down the wrath the Templars on us_. "Ser Thrask wants to _help_ you...Ser Karras...well, you're right, I _don't_ know how some Templars treat you."

Slowly, the woman slipped to her knees. "S-surrender...I-_we_...surrender." She swallowed, eyes pleading. "T-take us to Thrask...n-not..." She looked down at the ground, shivering. "...not _him_..."

_This could have been Bethany_... His heart softening even as he sensed Anders' disapproval, Garrett reached down and gripped the woman's arm, gently helping her back to her feet. "It's for the best, he's a good man, he'll help you...did you _really_ think you could have survived out here? Hunted and with no knowledge of life outside the Circle?"

The woman sighed, a choked little sob escaping her as she kept staring at the ground. "N-no..."

Anders was visibly fuming when Garrett turned around, fortunately, having learnt his lesson, the man remained silent. Fenris on the other hand was nodding with curt approval, though his eyes said he thought Garrett a lenient fool. Isabela was shaking her head, obviously not approving of imposing on the mages freedom – s_illy woman, none of us are free_ – while Merrill was simply staring at the mages, looking deeply sorry for their state. _I suppose they do look wretched_... The thought made Garrett grimace as he forced himself to speak his next words. "Isabela, bind their hands."

"What?!" Anders gasped, eyes wide in horror. Though to Garrett's relief, Isabela ignored the man's bluster as with an overly-dramatic sigh she moved to obey. "You kill one of them, frighten them into submission and now you want to-!"

"It's for their _protection_." Garrett snapped, grimly meeting Anders' gaze. "We're supposed to give the impression of _arresting_ them, not _helping_ them...or do _you_ wish to try and explain everyone we pass why our 'prisoners' don't look the part?"

Anders opened his mouth, then thought better of it and closed it with an angry click. Meanwhile Fenris was approaching, giving the mage a grim glance before looking back to Garrett as he spoke. "Fine, by all means, protect the apostates, as long as I get my gold. But know that I think you far too-"

"_Enough_." Garrett snapped with a sharp gesture. "We're not arguing anymore." _Am I leading children_?_ They are free to their opinions, but this is not the time, nor the place_. "Isabela, are you done?"

He turned, finding the pirate busy with the last mage, using thin leather straps she'd pulled from...Garrett really didn't want to know. _How can one wearing so little carry so much_...? "Sure, almost done. Why do you always task _me_ with tying them up, by the way?" She shot him a smirk. "Is it because you think I have experience from it in the bedchamber? You wouldn't be-"

"It's because you're a _sailor_." Garrett growled, exasperated, and all the more so when his reply made the pirate chuckle. _No, not children, teenagers, the lot of them_...

8

8

8

_Oh no_.

Ahead, Garrett could see daylight, the light of the sun warm...and the cold reflection it cast against the steel of Templars. _More_ than one...Garrett eyed them with a mix of fear and careful calculation. _Thrask_ _and_..._seven_ _more_. _We need to thread __very__ carefully_..._damn Decimus, we could have been long gone_!

Drawing his sword, he shot the rest of the group a pointed look and used the flat of his weapon to push the nearest mage forward. _Better play our part_..._Maker_, _and_ _hope_ _Thrask_ _keeps_ _his_ _mouth_ _shut_. "Keep going, you lot, I want to get back to Kirkwall before sun-fall." He kept his voice loud, loud enough to be heard...and hoped he could play the role of sellsword good enough. _Well_..._I __am__ a sellsword, of a fashio_n.

Silently, the group, 'prisoners' and 'jailers' alike, filed out of the cave. A grim gesture from Garrett made Anders and Merrill line up the mages along the entrance before subtly moving to stand behind them, concealing whatever magic the Templars could sense with those in front of them. _Now if only Merrill could stop looking so scared and Anders enraged_...

Next to him, Maric gave voice to a low growl, making Garrett quickly put down a hand to calm the dog. _What are you doing_? _You'll give us all away_! He glanced at the dog, then followed his gaze, finding the leader of the newly arrived Templars turn away from his conversation with Thrask to regard Garrett. _Oh_. The man was tall, built like a brick and was eagerly fingering his sword in his sheathe as he eyed the whimpering mages before him, his left eye was cold as _ice_, the right a milky white as that half of his face sported the pale skin of some old burn that must have been close to killing him when it was inflicted.

The man had another bare-faced man next to him, a giant of a man sporting a black beard and a puckered scar diagonally cut across his face, his nearly black eyes regarding Garrett as if he was a wall. The tip of his large sword rested on the ground as he leant both hands on a grip covered with inlays depicting the flaming sword of Andraste, the blade itself shimmering with the light of silverite, a true weapon of a knight.

The remaining five had their helmets on, but all somehow managed to look as grim. Their plate armour was shining in the light, yet sported many a blemish. Dents, scratches, the odd scorch mark...these were _not_ the Templars Garrett had been forced to fight in Kirkwall, not men of a garrison, a police force...these were _hunters_, veteran warriors. A_nd they're ready, not about to be surprised or outflanked_..._no, battle is __not__ an alternative_. It had never been, but the realisation that failure to keep things from devolving would lead to instant death, rather than something that might come later, made a trickle of cold sweat run down Garrett's spine.

"Ah, these are the mercenaries then, I take it?" The one with the milky eye spoke, undoubtedly the leader, _Karras_. He eyed the group before him with narrowed eyes. "And _with_ our quarry..._ten_ of them." He eyed Garrett, his tone _far_ too pleasant. "Tell me, where's the last one? I don't see Decimus."

Garrett, keeping his face blank, shrugged. "He resisted."

"Ah, so he _was_ the one dangerous one...as our friend said." Karras glanced to the side, past the grim-looking Thrask and to the mage that had surrendered to them before...a mage now on his knees, whimpering as he clutched at a horribly bruised face. "Yet a mage, a _blood-mage_...and you bested him? The five of you and a _dog_? Without any losses?" Karras regarded Garrett with an arched eyebrow as the man forced a nod...then he smiled, glancing back at his men. "If only I could find as good sellswords as our good Ser Thrask!" The men chuckled, amused, yet at the same time grim, hands on their sheathed weapons.

"We have some experience handling rogue mages, Ser."Garrett replied as calmly as he could. "There's good money in it."

"Ah yes, money, the _Chantry's_ money." Karras shot Thrask a disapproving glance, making the other Templar straighten, defiant. A moment later, Karras was smiling again, lips curled, eyes cold. "Well, a deal's a deal, use the money in good health." His gaze darted to the mages, the smile remaining on his lips even as his remaining eye turned dark with smouldering hate. "As to you lot-"

Garrett spoke before he could think, an image of Bethany flashing before his eyes as he watched Karras' fist closing tight. "They have surrendered to Ser Thrask, Ser."

For a moment, it looked like the Templar didn't hear, then his eye flashed as he looked back to Garrett. "Thrask mentioned something about that, yes...they'll be taken back to Kirkwall, as I understand it." He narrowed both eyes, the smile lingering on his lips. "Which is good, of course...though tell me, have they been properly...neutralised?"

"They have surrendered, they're bound..." Garrett replied, confused...and growing yet more afraid.

"Indeed..." Karras smiled, this time a flash of teeth in it. Yet his eye remained cold as he turned, moving towards the line of whimpering mages. "Is anyone in your group a Templar though? Do you know the ways to _properly_ put a mage down?" The nearest mage, a slim elf, shivered as the Templar passed him. Karras came to a stop, eyes taking in the sight of the glowering Anders with interest. "A staff? What an..._interesting_ choice of weapon..." A chill crept down Garrett's spine at the words. "...you're...good with it?"

"You want me to demonstrate?" Anders replied, a false smile on his lips as his eyes narrowed in a challenge. "A little sparring?"

"Ha!" Karras' laugh was a dry explosion of air. "I think not, can't have you getting even more scarred..." That triggered a chuckle from his men, though Karras didn't seem to hear it, continuing down the line of bound mages at a leisured pace, making each shiver in turn. "And an _elf_? With a _spear_?" He stared at Merrill, teeth flashing in a grin as his eye coldly regarded her.

Merrill didn't say a word, eyes on the ground, knuckles white as she gripped the weapon. Instead Garrett spoke up. "She doesn't look like much, Ser, but she's good with it." He stretched as much as he could, forcing himself to sound annoyed. "Now are you done looking at my troops? We have prisoners to transport...with all due respect, Ser."

"Of course, of course!" Karras grinned at him with a nod...and then stopped, smile fading. "Although...you haven't answered my question, have these mages been neutralised...?"

Before Garrett could formulate a reply, gaze flicking to Anders and Merrill before he could help himself – which he felt Karras notice – Thrask stepped forward, putting himself between Merrill and Karras in an all too protective gesture. "Now hold on, Ser, these people have surrendered and are now under _my_ protection, they'll be treated _accordingly_." In his eyes, there was righteous anger, making Garrett arch an eyebrow even as the redhead mage and Anders both shot the Templar a surprised look.

"As you say." Karras replied, smile replaced by a grim look, gaze moving from Garrett to Thrask, calculating. "Though some might say you're trying to _protect_ these mages...? I've even heard you work _with_ apostates at times." He shot Anders a glance...and Garrett tensed, grip tightening on his sword.

Before Garrett could intervene, Thrask's eyes shone, crying out his lie even before he spoke. "Of course not!"

_Damn_.

Again, Karras' smile appeared on his lips, gaze hard as every man and woman before the cave tensed, sensing where things were heading. _I_..._I_ _need_ _to_..._I_ _should_... Garrett couldn't come up with any solution, anything he could say that could repair the damage of Thrask's blatant lie, that could stop Karras' hostility. _Maker_, _no_!

The Templar captain took a step back, then turned, moving towards his men...his smile cold. "A girl of ten gave me this scar..." Karras gestured at the massive burn over his face. "...so for safety's sake I'm guessing you won't mind if we..." He whirled about, eye flashing as his men took a step forward. "...smite them!"

It was like a gust of wind striking him. Unprepared, Garrett took a step back, confused...but not for long.

The line of bound mages cried out. Their hands tied behind their backs, they were unable to clutch at their heads as fresh blood poured from their noses and ears. Two simply fell to the ground, knocked cold, the others wailed, stumbling. One fell to his knees and doubled over, throwing up what seemed to be mostly water. A female elf also fell to her knees, eyes rolling back in her sockets.

Anders, suddenly aglow with blue energy, staggered back, then fell onto one knee, one hand clutching at his staff as the other cradled his head. Merrill also took a step back, but only needed to blink before she seemed okay, Thrask standing before her perhaps stopping whatever force had struck the others. From her nose though, a few drops of blood dripped...

"I knew it! Apostates!" Karras' shout, completely bereft of the previous friendliness, was a rough and victorious growl, the shout of a warrior, looking forward to a battle. "Kill them!"

The clearing exploded into battle.

Karras, sword drawn and swinging, cut the head off the kneeling elf mage in a fountain of blood, then swung down with his steel shield, the mark of Andraste's flaming sword on it becoming splattered with blood and vomit as it smashed into the skull of the mage that had thrown up. Then he took a step towards the kneeling Anders, bloodied sword thrusting...and getting battered aside by another sword..._Thrask's_ sword. Karras looked up at the other Templar with narrowed eyes...and Thrask stared back in shock...then narrowed his eyes as well as he slid into his guard, shield up and sword levelled at his foe as he remained in front of the groaning Anders.

Two Templars rushed towards Merrill as Thrask left her position, one thrusting his sword deep into the chest of a moaning mage in front of the elf and bowling the man over. The other rushed at Merrill, a great two-handed axe raised for a killing blow. The elf levelled her spear though, a crackling bolt of lightning striking her foe square in the chest. Yet the man's torso didn't explode, nor did his breastplate melt and his flesh burn...all the powerful bolt left was a scorch-mark as the area around the impact glowed red...and the man charged on.

The bright bolt was blinding though, and Merrill screamed in terror as she desperately thrust her spear at the Templar that didn't even _see_ the strike. The weapon too struck the man in the breastplate, slid up...and got caught between it and his helmet, punching through the chainmail around his throat by virtue of nothing but the blind man's own momentum. He fell, gurgling out his surprise even as his comrade pulled his sword free from the slain circle mage, growled in rage and advanced upon the pale elf as she whimpered and struggled to free her weapon from his comrade.

Isabela, true to form, rushed her chosen target before he could even draw his weapon. The slim Templar darted to the left though, swinging shield nearly knocking the pirate's dagger out of her hand as he drew a mace covered in ridges and sporting a single spike at the tip resembling the burning sword of Andraste. Isabela tried to keep the momentum up with a a thrown dagger as she drew another dagger and rushed forward. The Templar stepped to the right though, the dagger harmlessly bouncing off his shield while the thrust of his mace made Isabela turn her charge into a roll, ducking away with a curse as a sliver of blood appeared on her cheek.

Fenris...hesitated. Then, as a Templar advanced on him, he let loose a Tevinter curse and drew his sword while driving his foe back with a kick against his shield. The Templar quickly steadied himself again though, his posture crouched behind his shield as he steadily advanced, waiting until he'd blocked a blow with it before driving Fenris back with a lightning-quick thrust of his sword.

Ahead, the man with the scar across his face rushed at Garrett with his sword held high...and turned his body as Maric crashed into him. The giant of the man somehow brushed the great Mabari aside with the momentum of his charge, making the dog roll away before leaping at the Templar following him, a Templar crying out in surprise as the dog knocked his sword out of his hand and bit down on his hand, trying to find a chink in his armour for Maric's teeth. His shout turning into a growl, the Templar shook Maric aside, reached for the sword...and then ducked away from Maric's claws as he drew a long dagger from his back.

Garrett's vision filled with the giant coming at him, the man's sword held high as Garrett raised his shield to block the incoming blow. _Okay, remember your sparring with Carver, you know how to face such a_-

_Pain_!

The unnoticed kick struck Garrett's left knee, making him stumble back as his leg nearly buckled. Caught off balance, he barely managed to move his shield down to his left side as his foe turned the vertical slash into a horizontal one, the force of the blow making Garrett stumble back again.

_By Andrastes'_...! Garrett lunged, sword thrusting towards his foe's face...only to find his strike out of reach as the man deftly took a step back and to his left, sword barely missing Garrett's outstretched arm in a diagonal swing as the man turned to _his_ left, trying to keep up with his foe.

The Templar stepped forward though, slash this time coming from above...a brutal blow meant to smash him down. Garrett moved to meet it, raising his shield...only for the great sword to miss his shield with an inch, coming under the shield and turning into a low thrust. Garrett twisted-

_Pain_!

Grunting, he staggered sideways, glancing down to find no blood flowing from his side, though it throbbed with pain as the chainmail at the point of impact shone with a silvery scar. Before him, the knight, face impassive, advanced without giving Garrett a moment to catch his breath. He feigned a thrust at Garrett's face before aiming it for his knee, though this was pushed towards the ground by Garrett's shield as he crouched low, then lunged forth, falchion swinging. This time, he reached his foe, blade rebounding off a turned breastplate before-

_Pain_!

Garrett and the knight both staggered back, the later with a gouge in his breastplate, the other nearly losing his sword as his foe's swing took him in the right shoulder with an upward slice. Again, the chainmail held, though only just, a pair of links splitting open.

_Maker_... Gasping for breath, Garrett inched backwards into the tree-line with his shield held in front of him, concealing his sword from his foe's frighteningly calm eyes as the knight inched after him with his sword held in a high guard.

Further off, Maric was lunging and retreating over and over, unable to get to his crouched foe as the now bloodied knife in his hand weaved a nearly lazy pattern in front of him. Fenris was doing something similar, shifting from thrust to slash, each blow meeting a shield or sword as the elf constantly danced left and right, eyes narrowed in concentration as he kept out of the reach of his perpetually advancing foe.

Merrill was crying out in fear as she tried to retreat, the vines suddenly coming out the ground grasping at her opponent's leg, only for him to cut them off and continue with nary a pause, shield held in front of him...before he cried out in anger and surprise as three circle mages jumped at him, their bonds turned to ash as their hands clawed and pulled at his armoured body.

Isabela, blood dripping from a cut along her left arm, was knocked onto her back by a swinging shield...and then kicked out, catching her foe's swing by the wrist and stopping his mace from turning her skull to pulp. Her other leg swept sideways, catching the inside of the Templar's knee and felling him onto his back...a moment later she had rolled atop him, their struggle turning frantic as her knives stabbed again and again, the blows either followed by the clang of steel striking steel or with the crunch of blades punching through flesh.

As for Karras and Thrask...the two were a blur of swords and shields as Karras pressed his foe hard, both the men breathing heavily as their armour dented under multiple blows as they jockeyed for the killing blow.

A grunt, and Garrett's opponent attacked again, his thrust rebounding off Garret's shield before Garrett advanced, only to gasp as the Templar too advanced, pressing into Garrett's shield and making the thrusting falchion miss its mark. Then the Templar gripped Garrett's shield with his left hand, stopping him from retreating as his right hand raised the greatsword high and then down at Garrett's neck-

_Pain_!

It was a poor angle for the blow, the sword striking from the centre of the blade rather than further out, and with only one hand...yet the cut was made with all of the knights' strength and all the momentum his sword was capable of, and made Garrett groan while stars danced before his eyes. There was no spurt of blood as the blade finally managed to cut through the chainmail – the cut having missed the artery in his neck – yet the _pain _left him gasping...and then the sword _sliced_ _down_...

_Pain_!

Garrett staggered back, into the forest, dizzy as he felt as if he'd received a diagonal burn from the front of his neck down between his collarbone and throat before it went down to the top of his ribcage. _That'll_..._leave a scar_... Garrett shook his head, trying to clear his foggy mind and vision both.

He did so just in time to see his foe swinging, a brutal cut from left to right, enough to separate Garrett's head from his shoulders. Eyes wide, Garrett raised his shield...and fell onto his back as the dizziness turned his legs to jelly.

The swing passed far over his head and slammed into a tree.

A grunt...and the Templar's eyes widened as the sword refused to budge.

Garrett didn't think, didn't plan. Dizzy, he lurched to his feet, shield striking his foe over the head, making him let go of his sword as he took a step back...before crying out in agony as Garrett's falchion swung low, striking the inside of the left knee of the stunned knight, smashing through chainmail, bone and plate alike. Clutching as the stump of his leg, the knight fell onto his back, roaring in agony...before going silent as Garrett landed atop him, his second swing splitting the man's skull in two.

He looked up, swaying where he knelt, trying to make sense of the battle ahead.

The knight that had advanced on Merrill had cut down one of the Circle mages that had tried to mob him, his sword coming through the chest of a second...and then Isabela was there, dagger punching into his hip. Crying out, the Templar turned to swing at the pirate, only to groan as Merrill's spear caught him in the armpit, crackling energy running through the length of the weapon and into the man, making him howl as smoke began to rise within his armour.

Fenris swung from right to left at his foe, the blade bouncing off the man's shield and back upwards as the Templar advanced with a thrust...and struck nothing but air as Fenris nimbly stepped to his left and swung the blade down from _left_ to right. It caught the Templar's right knee, driving him onto it with a cry of pain. With the swiftness of years of practice, Fenris moved to stand behind him and reversed his grip on his blade, smoothly driving its tip into the gap between the man's cuirass and helmet until nothing but the hilt remained, the rest of the blade having punched through lungs and intestines alike as the Templar went still where he knelt, blood pouring out from the air-holes of his helmet.

The Templar busy with Maric, now slowly driving the hound back, suddenly fell onto his stomach and was then rolled over, four mages crying out as they crawled over him, three pairs of thin hands gripping at his struggling arms and legs as a fourth ripped his helmet off. The redhead mage gripped the helmet with both hands as she raised it, growling something at the grizzled man looking up at her with wide eyes...and then slammed the helmet down into his face. The helmet rose again...and then came down, again and again smashing down, turning the man's face, then skull, into mush.

A gasp...and Karras staggered back, clutching at the stump that was his left arm as Thrask slowly lowered his bloodied weapon. Karras turned, eyes wide as he stared at the other, gaze sweeping over the Circle mages, lips moving in a whisper. "A-apostates..."

He fell onto his knees.

Then forward, face first into the dirt.

And Thrask stared at him in horror. "I...I..." He looked down at the sword in his hand. "...I killed a fellow Templar..."

"Well he _was_ trying to kill innocents..." Merrill pointed out, drawing a snort from Fenris. "You have to do what's right...don't you? You'd feel worse if you hadn't done anything. Besides, I don't think he would have let you go, had you stayed neutral, you hired us, after all."

"I...yes." Thrask nodded, still staring at Karras' corpse, face pale.

Garrett eyed the elf with surprise, perhaps he should have expected such sentiment from her judging what she'd said before, and reasoning, given her scholarly inclinations...but it was _hard_ to think of her as anything but a stupid elf and blood-mage. Yet she seemed to prove such assumptions wrong at every turn, and not even being aware of it. _Naive, foolish, but __not__ stupid_..._I better remember that_, _should she try and trick us_. "It doesn't matter anyway, what's done is done." Groaning, he struggled to rise, his whole body aching, making him turn his head to their healer. "Anders, are you okay?"

The mage was still kneeling, but as Garrett spoke, he looked up, making most around him recoil. "I was struck by multiple smites, enough to nearly make my body break apart..." His face was awash with blood, his clothes too, every crack in his flesh bleeding. "...so no, I'm _not_ okay." He spat blood in the direction of Karras. "Bloody Templars."

"You were _saved_ by a Templar." Garrett pointed out, glowering at the mage under all that blood even as he clutched at his still burning wound, trying to control his urge to beg the mage to heal it on the spot. "Remember that."

Anders grimaced, then spat again, a conflicted look crossing his face before he looked away, saying nothing.

Instead Fenris grunted, looking around himself with a casualness that belied the seriousness of the situation. "What now? This will be known."

The redhead mage rose, shaking, body heaving with breaths. "We...we can't go back to the Circle, not now." She took a step back, dropping the bloodied helmet in her hand with a grimace of disgust and terror. "They'll kill us all, or turn us tranquil..."

"Agreed." Garrett grunted, wheels turning in his head as his gaze moved between the survivors, Thrask, and the dead...something he all too happily did to distract himself from the agony tingling from his chest and down his arm. _Come on, Anders, get up_... "None of you can...not even Thrask." _They'll spot his lies a mile away_. Garrett frowned...then glanced back to the mage that had surrendered to them before the others, still cowering in his corner, staring at the battle-scene with horror, vomit now adorning the front of his robes. "...except _you_." The man stared at Garrett in horror.

"Uh oh...you have a plan, don't you?" Isabela asked, amusement in her voice, a mutter following the question. "Who plans for stuff like this, anyway...?"

"I do." Garrett answered the second question, then forced himself to release his injury with his good arm and pull the mage to his feet. "And yes, I have a plan...you...you wanted to go back to the Circle, did you not?"

"Y-yes...?"

"Good, then you'll do so." Garrett turned to look at the others, mind trying to finish the story. "This man surrendered to us before we reached the cave, he begged us to retreat, warning us that the other mages had hired sellswords. Ser Karras, however, would not listen, and ordered the Templars, along with us, to continue." Garrett shot the corpse a glance. "We were ambushed at the mouth of this cave, where Ser Karras and his men were slaughtered and Ser Thrask captured by the apostates for torture, only a few of them died during this attack." Garrett shot the four dead mages a glance. "I lead my mercenaries in a retreat though, our kind are famous for choosing discretion as the better part of valour, after all." Garrett nodded to himself. "This mage will support the story and they'll be able to come here and see the dead themselves, slain in combat along with some of the mages that ambushed them."

"I...I can do that." The mage nodded, looking a little calmer as he sensed that he might be brought to safety. _Of course, if they decide they don't like the story and try to torture him for_..._no, I'll report all this to Cullen, that man seems less suspicious, a moderate among his kind, he won't authorize such measures_.

"And what of us...?" The redhead asked, a glimmer of hope in her eyes as the remaining four mages with her exchanged frightened and tired looks. "We can't...well as you said in the cave...we can't..."

"Ser Thrask will go with you." Garrett replied, making the eyes of mages and Templar alike open wide, though at the moment he didn't care about their doubts about such an arrangement._ Maker, it's like I've been branded by a hot poker_! "You can't survive on your own, and Thrask claims he wishes to help you..." Garrett turned to the Templar, now sporting a thoughtful look. "...don't you, Ser?"

"I...yes...I can do that." Thrask slowly nodded, then chuckled as he turned amused eyes to the redhead. "If they'll accept the help of a _Templar_, that is."

The woman stared back, conflicted...then shrugged. "Why not? I...well why not? You protected us...I...it'll be so _strange_..." A little laugh escaped her.

_Good, mages out of the way, the poor liar out of the way, a man that can support our story and give us an alibi secured, a scene of battle supporting the story_..._it might just work_. "Good, then it's settled. You might try your way east, Rivain is more tolerant of mages, I hear." _Plus, it's far away from here_.

"Agreed." Thrask said, sheathing his sword with a grunt. "We better leave right now, miss...?"

The redhead managed a pale smile. "Grace, Ser."

Thrask offered a polite smile back. "Grace"

Anders, slowly struggling to his feet with the help of Merrill and his staff, was looking at the mages and Templar with wonder, then to Garrett. "You really think that'll...work?"

"It's the best solution." Garrett firmly replied, not about to allow for more arguing. _Or maybe he's referring to the cooperation in general_? _Doesn't_ _matter_. "Now, we should get a move on, leave everything as it is so they can find it like it is...we don't dare loot anything here." _Carver would have loved that sword_..._oh_ _well_, _next_ _time_.

With that, Garrett turned to the mage they'd bring back to Kirkwall. "Now, let me tell you _exactly_ what you're going to say..." His face split into a grimace though, his resolve finally crumpling. "But first, Anders, some help..."

With that, he doubled over and retched.

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for being swift as a deer._


	31. Chapter 31

Peeking out from the dark alley, Merrill looked left and right, a cold bead of sweat running down her spine.

_I think_..._I think I lost them_.

The Templars hadn't seen her, but they had _sensed_ her in the crowd when she lost focus in containing her signature of magic. It had all started when she wanted to buy some cheese and the merchant didn't want to sell to her, his gaze flicking to her ears over and over, as if she couldn't figure out _why_ he wasn't selling to her on her own. She'd gotten a bit upset then...distracted...and then felt her veins freeze to ice as a distant Templar boomed out a warning at the far side of the street.

She'd managed to loose them in the crowd then, people had gotten worried, so much that even though they _wanted_ to get out of the way of the two Templars pushing their way forth, they couldn't, not with the press of people against them. Merrill, far smaller than two heavily armoured humans, had had far less trouble and slipped away in the commotion, only for the call of those two Templars alerting _others_...

It had been a terrifying game of cat and mouse then. Merrill had used the dizzying number of narrow streets, once meant to confuse slaves and make it impossible to organize an escape, to stay out of sight of the scrambling Templars, always one crossing or corner away as more patrols joined the first. It had only gone on for half an hour before Merrill could no longer hear the tromp of their boots or the shouts of their voices, yet it felt like it had taken a day, leaving her breathless and shaking.

Now, having waited another half an hour in her hiding spot, breath hitching every time she heard anything resembling armour, Merrill finally dared to move, like a ground hog finally escaping the safety of its burrow. Rubbing her shoulders, trying to warm herself as she stepped unto the street of Lowtown, Merrill joined the stream of people moving through it while keeping a hesitant eye out for Templars as the chilly but not really cold winter winds of Kirkwall raked her face.

_The Templars are so many nowadays_...

The thought was mixed with a hint of guilt.

Since the escape of the Starkhaven mages and their 'uprising', as stories called it, as well as a string of apostates being found among criminal gangs and a failed escape attempt from the Kirkwall Circle, the Templars had been _recruiting_...and recruiting _a lot_. One couldn't take a step without meeting some Templar initiate, all too many poor people being willing to join the order for a hot meal and a roof over their head. Garrett had said many would probably not make the cut as the training got harder, but already the ranks of the already strong order was swelling. It was now more likely to meet a Templar, even in Lowtown, on the streets of Kirkwall than it was a city guard.

Merrill thought Garrett had done right by the surviving mages and Thrask. Of course, it had only been _after_ Karras had tried to kill them that the man had devised the plan to save the mages rather than bringing them to the Circle...but she still thought it had been somewhat thoughtful to suggest having Thrask to help them and to go to Rivaini. He hadn't _needed_ to give them such advice, yet he'd done so anyway, and she liked to think that made his earlier harshness with the mages easier to stomach. It had still been a scary situation, not just the battle, but then going back to Kirkwall. Merrill had feared the next Templar would somehow see through her guilt, or that Garrett's story wouldn't work with the order...yet somehow they had managed to come out unscathed, save Garrett's injury and the odd scrape and bruise.

Thinking of the man made her slow down her pace, thinking on her...she guessed they were her friends? Garrett was, without a doubt, her Keeper. Stern, always thinking, cautious, disapproving... Yet he hadn't sent her away yet, despite disliking her task and the magic she was using with the Eluvian...Merrill was _very_ grateful for that. He was like the Keeper in taking her seriously though, not dismissing her as ditsy, silly or cute like so many others, even those among her own clan...it was one of the few things she really appreciated about him, no matter how nice it was to be friendly with others, sometimes you just wanted to be taken _seriously_.

Fenris and Anders _did_ have the later thing in common with Garrett, yet they not only took her seriously, they seemed to _dislike_ her...Merrill wasn't about to apologize for who she was, but she didn't much like being disapproved of._ I'll just keep being friendly, they can't be angry forever_..._plus, they're part of this odd 'clan' of ours_..._I should try to keep things friendly_..._they're nice, beyond disliking me, after all_. Varric was nice and generous, reminding Merrill of Hahren Paivel in her clan, a story-teller, a man keeping the clan together by his very presence. Aveline...Aveline was so strong, like Mahariel...while the always so funny and playful Isabela reminded Merrill of Tamlen, Mahariel's best friend. Both were now gone...

Merrill came to a stop, breathing out a sigh of grief as she stared down at the ground. Two lives lost in a clan of _fifty_ in a single moment...it had been a devastating blow, everyone had felt the grief of those deaths, unlike in Kirkwall, where death was everywhere and none even cared. For Merrill to take the mirror responsible and to try and fix it...she could understand the clan's anger, but doing nothing would mean those deaths were _pointless_! She took another deep breath, this time one of anger, of _frustration_.

_I don't care what they say, when I get it working they'll see_..._I'll start a new era for the Dalish_. _An era of prosperity, not decline_! _An era of growth, not slow death_! _The Elvhen will __not__ die out, I won't let that happen_! _Can't they see that we can't go on as we are_!? _We __must__ find a way to exist with the humans without entering another war_! _And the mirror __is__ the answer_! _I just need_-

Suddenly, Merrill staggered to the left, a wall of flesh bumping into her side. Looking up, she found a pudgy human snap his head around to glare at her, the jowls of his chin shaking in anger. "Watch where you're going,knife-ear."

Merrill shirked back, the old stories from Hahren Paivel of humans raping elven maidens running through her head even as she knew she was being ridiculous. She was a _mage_, she'd _fought_ people...and the man before her was just a fat _merchant_...yet none the less she found her lower lip shaking. "I...I wa-wasn't m-moving..." _Dammit, I should_..._I_ _shouldn't_..._I_ _should_... The human glared at her for a moment longer, then snorted and marched away from her while quickly checking his money-pouch to make sure the elf hadn't stolen it in the collision. ..._I wish I was more confident socially_... Merrill stared at the human's back, lips trembling, fists clenched, feeling powerless and hating it. _I wish I was more like Isabela_...

As if summoned, the pirate was suddenly right in front of her, looking down at Merrill with a grin on her face as she assumed that crooked stance she always did...Merrill had tried it herself once but simply tripped over...her whole _being_ exuding the confidence Merrill could only _dream_ of. "Well hello, kitten! Fancy meeting you here...you're going to Garrett's as well?"

Merrill blinked, looking about herself and realising she was actually fairly close to the Hawkes place. _Or is it the Amels' place, since Gamlen owns it?_ _Though it doesn't __feel__ like he owns it now_..._humans have odd customs, what's the point of changing surnames like that_? _It just gives you a headache trying to figure out who's named what_. "Ohh...no, I just got here by...accident." Isabela cocked her head to the side in question, but Merrill waved the concern aside. "It's nothing, but I'll gladly keep you company, if you want." Then Merrill frowned, confused. "Though why are you going to Hawke's? He usually comes to _us_ if he has a job..."

"Sure, but _this_ time _I'm_ coming to _him_." Isabela smirked, leaning closer as she whispered. "I'm smelling _money_, you see..." She eyed Merrill expectantly, nearly bouncing where she stood in eagerness.

"Errr..." Merrill hesitated, then offered an unsure smile, not wanting to disappoint her friend. "..._I_ like money?"

"_That's_ what I wanted to hear!" Isabela grinned, leaned back and grabbed Merrill by the hand, nearly pulling the elf over in her haste to continue on. "You see, apparently our dear Garrett has gathered enough money for that expedition, an expedition that'll soon _leave_...lots of money down in the Deep Roads, you know, plus an _adventure_..."

_Well that sounds fun_..._though didn't Garrett say it would be dangerous_? _Though I suppose it's just as bad up here right now, the Templars are being so aggressive_..._I don't want to be taken by them_... Hurrying her steps to keep up with the taller human, Merrill nodded to herself. _Well_..._it can't hurt to ask_..._and I have so little money already, with Garrett off in the Deep Roads I'll have no income_..._but in the expedition I'd earn money __and__ be fed_.

She was so caught up in those thoughts, and the little bit of giddiness at the thought of seeing something so unique as the Deep Roads, that Merrill barely stopped in time when Isabela froze. Looking up, Merrill found her and Isabela face to face with a frowning Aveline. "Ah, Isabela, here to bother Garrett, are you?"

"Oh ye of little femininity, I live to serve him." Isabela did an exaggerated bow, making Aveline bristle even as Merrill looked on with wonder. _Not exactly how Tamlen and Mahariel got along_... "And what's so important that you are going away from him in such a hurry? I thought you _liked_ him?" The last bit the pirate asked with a wink and a nudge into Merrill's side, reminding the elf of the latest gossip and making her smile. _I hope they get together, they'd both be happier that way, I think_..._not that I know much of that_..._except that Anders has no dirty spells in his spellbook_... The thought made Merrill's neck grow warm, she hadn't been able to help herself...she was curious by _nature_...though Anders had of course not seen it that way...

The question went over Aveline's head though, or perhaps she chose to ignore it, as she frowned at the pirate. "I just visited him. Sadly, I can't help with the expedition, too much to do." The woman's gaze turned distant for but a moment, looking troubled, then she shook her head and returned to the present. "As to where I'm going...I'm apparently going to play babysitter." Merrill and Isabela exchanged a puzzled look, making the guardswoman sigh. "Garrett wants Carver to stay behind and support his mother and uncle while Bethany and Maric goes with Garrett to keep their sister away from the Templars...Carver...didn't much like hearing that." Aveline grimaced. "So now I have to drag him out of the Hanged Man before he does something stupid..._Maker_, I sometimes hate that boy."

"Oh let him drink a pint or two." Isabela replied, then shrugged when Aveline shot her an annoyed look. "What? Neither you or Garrett lets him unwind, no wonder he gets so cranky..." The guardswoman's look soured even further. "Ah, whatever, ignore me then."

"If only it were that easy." Aveline grunted, offered Merrill a polite nod and then brushed past her and the pirate, muttering to herself as she went.

When the guardswoman was far enough away not to hear them, Isabela stretched. "Good riddance." She looked down at Merrill with a smile. "Don't hang around that woman too much, she's a bad influence."

Merrill blinked. "That's odd...she said the same thing about you."

Isabela chuckled at that even as she took the lead, confidently cutting a way through the crowd ahead and making Merrill follow, thankful that she for once didn't have to press her way through the mass. "Who says either of us is wrong?" She glanced back, smirking. "I'm a _bad_ girl, you know...but _fun_ too, it's up to you if I'm worth your while."

"You are!" Merrill quickly replied, afraid to insult the pirate and her...odd words. _Why would you insult yourself like that_...? "And you're _not_ bad."

Stopping just in front of the Hawkes' door, Isabela turned and regarded Merrill for a moment, her smile gone, but only for a moment, as her face split into a grin. "Thanks, kitten." Her hand darted forth, ruffling Merrill's hair even as she shoved the door open, making the elf struggle to see from under a loosened bang of hair as she hurried to reach for the door frame. _Isabela_! _Always forgetting to knock_..._I guess she's just so eager she forgets_...

Within the little apartment, space was in short supply.

Merrill saw no sign of Gamlen or Leandra, though the sound of pottery clattering in the next room suggested they were preparing some kind of meal...if it was the regular evening meal or dinner for all assembled was impossible to tell. Pulling the bang out of her eyes, Merrill looked about the room with large eyes. All furniture but the central table had been pushed to the side, a table now covered with a large map, a dozen pieces of paper, an old-looking scroll, a pair of daggers and half a dozen pens as well as an ink-pot balancing dangerously close to the edge of the table.

The only one not gathered around the table was Fenris, the elf leaning against the wall in the right corner, glowering at Merrill as she entered, making her quickly deflect her gaze, not willing to get into another argument with him. _I don't understand him, he doesn't care for the Dalish, he doesn't feel sympathy or anything else for the alienage elves, he hates mages_..._is there anything he __likes_!? _Poor man must have had a rough life_..._I should try and help him realise he's with friends at some point_!

Three sides of the table sported people. The right side had Bartrand standing in the middle, flanked by a pair of dwarves with black tattoos over their faces and a third wearing a pair of spectacles, and then a pair of humans dressed in worn-looking leather armour. Though while those men were frowning down at the map or muttering to one another, Bartrand himself was leaning on the table, frowning at the map and speaking _loudly_. "Yeah, it might work, we'll take that route."

"It _must_ work, brother." Varric was standing at the other side of the table, ably flanked by a grimacing Anders and a nervous-looking Bethany. The sight of the later made Merrill grimace. She'd tried to apologise for her presumptions about Garrett a few days ago, but somehow she'd made things _worse_ while babbling...and it was so _wrong_ that Bethany, such a sweet girl, would think _less_ of her...but Merrill had a feeling the woman didn't 'notice' her now in the room for a _reason_. _I really screwed this up_..._I'm_..._I'm_ _no_ _good_ _with_..._people_..._or_ _talking_..._or_..._anything_ _practical_, _really_... Merrill found her shoulders slump. "If it doesn't, there won't be any expedition."

"Then we head for that entrance and hope for the best." Garrett, standing at the far side of the table, grunted. He, like Bartrand, was leaning on the table with his hands while frowning, though the only one next to him was Maric, the Mabari having his forepaws on the table so he could keep his head atop it...and looking surprisingly serious doing so. Merrill couldn't help but notice that Garrett's loose tunic revealed the top of the white scar that scary Templar had given him, a testament to how close he'd been to being killed. _And all for a little bit of coin_..._human_ _society_ _is_ _weird_..._and I seem to be part of it now_... The thought left a bad taste in her mouth. "We've come too far to give up now." With that, he turned his head to look up at the open door, frowning in irritation at Isabela – _oh_ _right_ – Merrill tapped the door frame with her fist, making Garrett offer her a stiff nod...though Merrill's attempt to smooth things over apparently didn't help as he fixed his frown back to Isabela. "I thought I told you to _knock_ when coming over...what do you want?"

"Well you're planning the expedition, what do you _think_ I want...?" Isabela confidentially replied, marching up to the empty side of the table and putting her hands on her hips even as the men at Bartrand's side at the table eyed her with looks Merrill had _never_ seen anyone look at her with...and she wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing. "I want in."

Silence.

Bartrand and Garrett exchanged a look, then the former exploded into a laugh as the later frowned at the pirate in exasperation. "You want to be a partner?" Isabela shrugged, shooting off a cocky grin, making Garrett narrow his eyes at her. "Do you _have_ fifty sovereigns?"

Bartrand's laugh died, the dwarf looking back to Isabela with a glint in his eyes...and then snorted as the woman chuckled. "Me? Not even close, but you _know_ how good-"

"Then you can't become a partner." Garrett interrupted, steady staring back at Isabela, challenging her to argue.

Which she did, her head pulling back with a grimace. "That was a little rude, you _know_ I'm more than capable of-"

"As rude as assuming you can get an equal share of a joint effort for...what...just being _you_? While me and Bartrand have spent a year preparing and gathering coin?" Garrett replied, gaze steady. "I have worked hard and saved every scrap I've earned, Bartrand here has sold everything but his clothes...all to fund this expedition...and you want in on it just because you say you should be?" He didn't raise his voice, yet Merrill could sense an anger within him, an anger forbidding any further arguments.

Isabela, grumbling to her self, glared back, making Merrill take a furtive step away from her in case things got ugly.

A shrug, and Garrett spoke again. "If you'd like, we could hire you on as a guard."

"We _could_?" Bartrand asked, sounding annoyed even as Varric rolled his eyes and shot a meaningful look at the way his brother was clutching his money-pouch._ Oh yes, he told me his brother doesn't like spending money_..._though I thought he had so little left_..._does it matter if he spends a little more to be safer then_?_ Isn't that good_?

"We could." Garrett replied, not taking his eyes off Isabela...who was frowning, not looking the least pleased. "She's ill-disciplined, but skilled, and would prove useful in a tight spot." He paused, still regarding Isabela. "Well? What do you say?"

"_Guard_? You want _me_ to be a guard? _Not_ a partner?" Isabela snorted in derision. "No booty, just..._pay_?!"

"That's what on the table, yes." Garrett replied, unfazed. "Take it or leave it."

"Bloody...fine, it's your head." Isabela grunted, turning away. "I'm out of here, good luck with your expedition, hope you find nothing but bones." Grumbling, she stalked past the baffled Merrill and out the door.

"What was that all about?" Varric grunted, echoing Merrill's confusion.

"She wants one great haul to afford herself a ship, most likely." Garrett shrugged, giving the now empty door an irritated look. "Lucky breaks like that don't come to you like that though. You have to _earn_ them, and that's something she doesn't seem willing to do." Merrill frowned, the words weren't exactly _untruthful_...but they were a bit rude. "Now...Merrill, what can I do for you?"

Suddenly finding herself under the scrutiny of a dozen pair of eyes, Merrill found herself hesitant...not to mention a little annoyed as some of the men that had been eyeing Isabela before looked at her with surprise, apparently not even having noticed her entering. "Well...I just came with Isabela...b-but if that guard position is still available...?"

One of the humans snickered while one of the tattooed dwarves arched an eyebrow. Bartrand was more vocal though. "Is this elf serious?"

"Do not underestimate her, I can vouch for her ability." Garrett evenly replied, making Merrill blush. He kept his eyes on her though, cocking his head to the side. "Why would you want to go though, Merrill? This is hardly a small job like those we've had before, we'll be gone for _weeks_."

"I know...and that's _good_." Merrill grimaced, rubbing her shoulder as she glanced back at the door, then at the men around Bartrand, unsure if she could answer. Garrett didn't seem bothered though, not giving any sign of danger. "The...the Templars are all over the city and so I thought...maybe..."

"What? _Another_ mage?" Bartrand growled, though it was a _pleased_ sound. "How many do you _have_, Garrett? Do you collect them or something?" The dwarf chuckled at his own joke.

Garrett ignored him though, his neutral look even softening a little at Merrill's explanation. "I understand, Bethany and Anders are both coming along for that very reason." If he heard Fenris in the corner finally give voice to a sound, a lone snort, he didn't show it. "Very well, you can come as a guard, and be paid accordingly." At the table, Bartrand grumbled, but nodded in agreement.

Merrill's face split into a smile, the slight excitement she'd already felt at the thought of exploring the Deep Roads exploding in full bloom so suddenly it caught even _herself_ with surprise. "Oh thank you! It'll be so much fun! I've always been curious about the architecture down there!"

As one, the men on Bartrand's side of the table turned their heads to look at Garrett with arched brows. The man, sighing, gave Merrill an unamused look. "Yes, it'll be interesting, but this is not some amusement trip. We have to be careful and professional, do you understand?" Merrill swiftly nodded, eager to please. _This'll be fun_! "And no...you-know-what." He again ignored the other men as they shot him questioning looks.

_No blood magic_...

Merrill smiled and nodded. "Of course not."

"Good, it's settled then." Garrett nodded at her, offering a dutiful smile before he turned over to Bartrand. "Now, I'm not sure which route we'll take after..."

Still smiling, Merrill shifted where she stood, eyes on her feet.

_No blood magic_..._unless_ _absolutely_ _needed_, _of course_.

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for my surprise._


	32. Chapter 32

_Ahhh_..._this is the life_.

The glass of cold mead in her right hand, though also resting on a small table, was still fairly full, meaning she wouldn't have to get up and get it refilled for quite some time. The pipe in her left hand was still smoking, its tickling scent filling her nostrils. She wasn't _much_ of a smoker, but some moments just asked for it. As for the warm sensation in her belly...well she could hardly blame Jethann for getting too excited with her. Sure, having to drink that awful tea – just to be sure of no complications – later was annoying, but the price had been well worth it, both in coin and the tea due to their spectacular finish. _Maybe __he__ should have paid __me_...? Isabela smirked at the thought.

She was sitting just outside the Blooming Rose. With winter in full swing, the place was _packed_, yet most nobles and prostitutes – this was no Lowtown brothel after all – shied away from the outdoors when it was winter, giving Isabela some nice peace and quiet to sit in and enjoy the afterglow of her latest purchase. _Expensive, but worth it, that elf is one agile man_... Sighing with pleasure, Isabela eyed the rain drizzling down just past the tiled roof jutting out from the Blooming Rose. She knew it was icy cold...but she was a _pirate_, not some fragile lady, and who cared whether it rained when you had a roof over your head? _Can't believe I'm alone out on this terrace, just because it rains_..._no real men in the Rose today_..._unless you count Jethann_..._nah, I wouldn't_. The thought almost made Isabela miss Garrett, _almost_.

_Miss his money and jobs though_..._bloody hell, has it been a half a month already_? _He better make sure Merrill comes back unscathed_..._oh and Fenris, would be an awful shame to lose that hunk_._ No, focus Isabela, you're __bleeding__ money here_..._balls, I've gotten too reliant on that guy supplying me with work_... Isabela shrugged, annoyed with herself for worrying, it was a trait more suiting the bore Garrett than a bad-ass like herself. _Eh, something will turn up, if not, I'll just sleep under a bridge for a while, wouldn't be the first time_.

Leaning further back in her chair, aware that she was on the verge of tipping over backwards, Isabela grunted to herself as she brought the pipe to her lips and took a puff, the bitter taste nicely complementing the sweetness of her mead. _Perfect_. Yet despite the contentment of her body, Isabela found her brows furrowing. _Maybe I should focus more on finding the tome_..._though then I might not get a paying job, which is no good_. _Though if I don't find at least a __lead__ on the tome_... Isabela shuddered at the thought of Castillon's vengeance. He never tortured his victims, never announced his desire to see one dead...you just _knew_...and then the wait for the blow to come _became_ the torture.

_So_..._a small job first, then back to hunting the tome_. Isabela decided, then she took another swig out of her glass, groaning at the wonderful taste as the warm feeling in her stomach turned into a wonderful little tingle spreading out across her skin. _Tomorrow_...

"Out drinking as usual, I see?"

Blinking, Isabela looked up at the familiar voice, and then nearly groaned aloud as she saw Aveline tower over her. The woman's hands were resting on her hips, like a mother scolding her child, though the impression was somewhat ruined by the armour covering all but her head. Her green eyes were sharp and full of displeasure and...something more, Isabela couldn't quite place it...impatience? As for her hair...Isabela found her grin returning.

"Well good morning to you too! Is that a new hairstyle? What do Fereldians call it...wet dog?" Aveline's brows furrowed, but she said nothing, not even moving to touch the auburn hair plastered to her head by the winter rain. "And are those new dents in your armour? Some new...fashion statement?"

"It's called 'marks from doing your job'." Aveline touched a deep gouge in her breastplate with a snort. "Which you would know if you'd ever had one."

"Oh, good one!" Isabela chuckled, she'd actually found a perverse pleasure in sparing with Aveline and her stoicism. The woman was as unyielding in conversation as she was with her shield, and her reactions to just about anything just as dependable. _No wonder Garrett likes her, she's about as passionate as he is_. "Though I have mine too, or can't you see my tan? I'm actually less dark than this, you know." She gestured at her chest with a smirk. "You should join me once I get a ship, put some colour on those freckled cheeks of yours."

"Once you get a ship?" Aveline glanced at her, then the Blooming Rose, followed by the glass in her hand and the pipe in the other, arching an eyebrow, her voice neutral. "So in twenty years or so?"

The barb struck a bit too hard, making Isabela's smirk turn into a sigh and a roll of her eyes. "What do you want, oh woman of mighty chin?"

Aveline's frown deepened at the insult, her hand nearly moving up to touch her jaw before she thought better of it._ Ah, a weak spot, good to know if you think to step over the mark again_... "I'm looking for Carver, he's not at home and his mother worries for him." _Of course she does_. Isabela groaned, it was bad enough they'd left the prideful boy at home like he was but a child, but to keep such a person on a tight leash as well was _not_ the way to go...she knew that better than most. _This'll end in tears in the end, I wager, not everyone submits to the control of others_..._not when it's demanded, at least_. "He's supposed to be working to keep his family afloat but I've heard he went _this_ way..." The woman inclined her head towards the door to the Blooming Rose before shaking it in annoyance. "...you can't get more foolish."

_More foolish than to enjoy yourself_? _Wow, you __are__ a bore_. "Come now, the boy's bored, he wants a challenge, something to occupy him...you can't expect him to take that butcher's job I heard he was offered...it's not who he is." Isabela knew it was pointless to argue, but she did so anyway, feeling a little bad for Carver. _Can't be easy, never being allowed to make mistakes, to be free, when that's all you crave_. Isabela took another swig out of her glass, not liking have to think of such things when she was supposed to be _relaxing_.

"It would have been an _income_." Aveline grunted back, then shrugged. "It doesn't matter, I have a job for him...if I can find him."

"A job?" Isabela looked up with a smile. "A good job? A paying job? A violent one?"

Groaning, Aveline rolled her eyes. "Yes, you can come, and get paid for it too. The Maker must have a queer sense of humour when he made you so skilled, yet so frustrating...now I know what Garrett feels like." Isabela grinned at that._ No, no you really don't_. "But on _one_ condition, you help me find Carver _first_."

"That's all? Sure!" Isabela grinned, then brought her glass up and raised it to her mouth, letting the liquid run down her throat.

Before her, Aveline shifted in annoyance, waiting.

Then, with a sigh of pleasure, Isabela put down the empty glass on the table and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand while tapping out her pipe against the arm of her chair. "I didn't see him back there, but the place _is_ fairly packed...and so was I when I was getting out." Aveline rolled her eyes. "Though I wager we can find him, a boy with as little money as him...he can only go to _one_ place in the Rose..." With that, Isabela kicked up, making her balance shift and her chair to fall backwards. She rolled with the impact though, deftly coming up on her feet while tossing the pipe into the empty glass on the table...though given her recent string of drinks she found her footing only barely. Before her, Aveline crossed her arms, not impressed even as Isabela grinned at her. "If you'd follow me, I'll find him for you."

Aveline shook her head in reply. "Maker, I regret this already.."

8

8

8

_I hate this_.

Sitting at the bar in the Blooming Rose, Carver was nursing the last sip of the cheapest ale he could buy, well aware that he'd get thrown out if he stopped being a 'paying customer'. One of the bouncers, a Qunari of all things...was already eyeing him with those eerie eyes his kind had.

Carver wasn't sure why he'd gone to the Blooming Rose of all places, everything in it was far too expensive for his kind. Yet after Gamlen had dragged him there once for a 'pint and some advice over being the younger brother' – much of which had been a depressing story of being stuck in the shadows – Carver just couldn't find enjoyment in the sleazy establishments in Lowtown, being in one of them after seeing the Blooming Rose felt like an insult, like he wasn't good enough.

Carver _hated_ that feeling.

So he'd gone to the Blooming Rose – what else was he supposed to do with his time? – and bought what he could afford, trying to blend in among the nobles strutting like peacocks around prostitutes that ranged from ethereal beauties to the girl next door kind of woman. He'd even seen a couple of female _dwarves_ in the brothel.

Carver had actually come to know quite a few of the employees at the Blooming Rose over the month. They thought him cute and liked his stories of his adventures and of Ferelden in general since few of them had never even left Kirkwall. To be honest, Carver had tried to use this friendliness as a bridge to use his charm on them...hoping to perhaps get what he couldn't afford for free...but they had only laughed at him every time he'd tried and poked fun at him. It was clear by now that Kirkwallers were far harder to charm than Ferelden peasant girls, especially the beauties in the Blooming Rose.

Of course, he then had to feel bad not only over his charm being useless in Kirkwall, but also feel guilty over his attempt as his thoughts drifted to Merrill. Which was _silly_! She had _no_ claim to him! In fact she recently seemed to have _avoided_ him until the expedition had left! Yet still he felt bad over having tried to charm other women...it was a frustrating circle of failure and guilt that left a bad taste in Carver's mouth.

Of course, he _wanted_ to distract himself from such irritations with work, that's why Garrett had left him behind, wasn't it? To take care of Leandra and Gamlen like he was their bloody nurse...the fact that Gamlen had done the same to his and Leandra's parents and then had his life ruined didn't pass Carver by...and keeping them fed and clothed? And he _had_ tried to get jobs, he really _had_...but mercenary work was hard when most of the group was gone. The jobs out there for hiring _one_ mercenary were few and far between.

Plus – and this really made his anger rise – far too many potential clients had expressed disappointment in finding out they were hiring _him_ and not his _brother –_ some even going so far as to ask if he was as capable...and Carver, far more hot-headed than his brother, could admittedly have handled those a questions better...

_Still, it's not my fault_._ I helped Garrett build up his reputation. I was __essential__ to his success at points_..._and now people refuse to hire me because I'm not him_!? _It's not fair_... He knew what Garrett would have done in such a situation. Started from scratch and built up his own reputation by doing well in lots of small-jobs until he'd earned some recognition...but the very _thought_ of doing that _all over_ again made him grit his teeth in frustration._ I shouldn't __have__ to start all over_!_ This is so_..._he should have brought me, dammit, they __need__ me_..._Gamlen and Leandra could take care of themselves, dammit_. _I mean bringing __Bethany__ but __not__ me_..._sure,_ _I know she can handle herself, but still_..._it's_ _insulting_..._I'm_ _just as capable, plus I've __always__ been there to guard her, __not__ having me there is_..._unnatural._

Of course, knowing Garrett, they'd come back safe and sound...carrying with them so much wealth they could buy Kirkwall twice over...and all would be due to _Garrett_...

The bitterness stuck to Carver's throat like a collar, wanting to choke him.

_I should be there too_.

A hand landed on his shoulder.

_I swear, if it's that bouncer_... Carver's hand closed into a fist as he turned his head, ready to clock whoever was interrupting his thoughts. He blinked in surprise at seeing Aveline and Isabela though, his hand immediately unclenching. "You...?" Not knowing what else to say, caught off guard and feeling a little embarrassed of _where_ he'd been caught...Carver just stared at the two.

Isabela had a healthy glow to her, looking flushed and cheerful, like a kitten happy with its latest meal.

Aveline looked more like a half-drowned tom-cat, making Carver once more wonder what Garrett saw in her._ I suppose they have the same scowl_...

The similarity was easy to draw as he looked at Aveline, finding her forehead creasing. "Carver, what are you doing?"

"Drinking?" He suggested, holding up his near empty mug for her to see as he frowned back, annoyed. _Another one who wants to baby me_... "That's not against the law now, is it, guardswoman?"

"No, but it's pointless and wasteful." Was the reply, the redhead shaking her head at him in disapproval. _Sorry, Aveline, too used to that from a guy with a far more withering gaze_...

Isabela snorted. "I disagree with you there, Aveline." She shot Carver a wink, making him smile back.

"Of course you do." Aveline grunted, not taking her eyes off Carver. "Now, again, what are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be finding work?"

Carver growled in anger at that, all too bitter already to take a lecture from _Aveline_ of all people. "I _have_, or don't you remember getting my application to the guard rejected? Thanks again for that, by the way." He turned back to his drink, vainly hoping against hope that that would finish the conversation.

Behind him, Aveline sighed. "I've already apologised for that, but come now, we _both_ know that while you're skilled in combat you're not _disciplined_ enough to be a guard...most of the time it's paperwork and dreary patrols, you know."

Carver bunched his shoulders up high in irritation, refusing to listen to the old argument. _Sure, keep pointing out my flaws, everyone seems eager to do so nowadays anyway_...

"Anyway, just because you're not a guard doesn't mean I don't have use for you."

_Ah, the pity work, how nice_... Carver gave voice to a non-committal grunt.

"Hey! I know you have little in terms of work and I'm offering...!" Aveline growled, sounding offended.

A tsk from Isabela, and Carver found another hand on his shoulder, this one less demanding, _softer_...Isabela's voice was softer too, soft and full of mischief. "Come on, Carver, it'll be _fun_! Not every day you get to reveal a corrupt _Guard captain_, after all..."

Carver blinked, then smiled, the idea _was_ enticing. "Oh, something the great Aveline _doesn't_ trust the other Guards to help her with? She needs help from lowly mercenaries like us...?" He turned, smirking at Aveline...and found Isabela doing the same. _Yes, this might be fun, actually_..._and paid job is paid job_..._might make mother stop moaning at me_.

"More or less, yes." Aveline stoically replied with a shrug. "I only dared ask _one_ other guard for assistance, he's a good man..." For a moment, Aveline seemed to drift off with a little smile on her lips – making Carver and Isabela both exchange a glance, the later with a coy smirk – before she with a shrug focused back on the present. "...but only _one. _With him on the inside and us working on the outside though, I think we can crack this _relatively_ quickly..."

Isabela and Carver both looked at her expectantly.

And Aveline sighed, shoulders slumping. "...and you'll get paid handsomely for such a feat, of course, the guard pay their mercinaries well."

"Well what are we waiting for?" Carver grunted and rose to his feet, stretching his back with a groan. "I'll get my gear, then we'll go wherever you wish." Then, he paused, a thought just occurring to him. "Err...could you not mention to mother where you found me...?"

Isabela chuckled at that, but Aveline just rolled her eyes as she turned and started to walk away. "Who do you think pointed me in the right direction...?"

Carver stared at her back in horror. _Oh hell_...

8

8

8

_Thanks to Abydos Jackson, for her trust._


	33. Chapter 33

Steadily, the column was marching forwards.

It was different than the time the troops had marched through Lothering to reinforce Maric's army. For one, the 'civilian' entourage was far larger in relation to the armed forces. Of the ninety-six in the expedition, Garrett could only label thirty as 'warriors', and that included himself and the mages. It was moving slower too, not capable of marching down the old Imperial road like in Ferelden – and if necessary, to go around any broken part of the road – but forced to climb over rubble and to make detours through narrow paths at odd times while also trying to keep their bearings...something proving surprisingly difficult for anyone but exiled Orzammar dwarves and Anders.

The other 'warriors', just like Garrett's own group, was a motley bunch, but one Garrett now – by virtue of experience in leading such groups – was now in charge of. One was a Rivaini dressed like Isabela – though the man had the sense to wear trousers, at least – carrying four javelins, a short sword and a shield...and might as well be a mute, considering how little he spoke. _Isabela could learn from him, that's for sure_. Another was a dwarf in full plate burnished black and carrying an axe and a round shield large enough to cover almost his entire body...and who always growled for another serving during meals, something his fat body really didn't need more off, in Garrett's opinion. Then there was a young man in a partly broken suit of plate mail carrying a greatsword with much pomp but little skill, a son of some disinherited Chevalier that had died before he'd taught the boy more than the basics, though that didn't seem to cull the boy's enthusiasm to prove himself. _Like Carver_... The rest was the expected mix of dwarves and humans in mail and leather, grim soldiers of fortune sporting scars and cheaper weapons but which they were well versed in.

The majority of the expedition was mostly a mix of human and dwarven workers ready with picks, backpacks and shovels. There were also a few engineers and cartographers, not to mention scouts and men knowledgeable of the Deep Roads, experts in various fields essential to handle whatever obstacles were thrown the group's way...most of those were dwarves. The only elf in the group, save Merrill and Fenris, was a female that always stayed on a wagon along with two human women...their role becoming all too obvious after the group's first stop. Garrett had argued that they were a waste of space, but some of Bartrand's companions had nearly rioted at the thought of their employer agreeing...so the women stayed, plying their trade and eating up the expedition's food.

Furthermore, the column was hampered by a full twenty carriages – drawn by ponies so hairy one could think them bears – not only meant to transport all they found, but also to bring all their equipment and food into the Deep Roads. They could have done with less carriages, but Bartrand – being a merchant with experience in such things – had been wise to order more than necessary, with each carriage holding a lighter load, it was easier to put your shoulder onto it to push it over the odd pile of rubble or to help it when it got stuck in a pothole.

Still, they were making good progress if Bartrand's and Anders' judging of the map were correct, and that was enough for Garrett. _How long have we been down here now_? _Nearly half a month_? In the darkness of the Deep Roads, it was hard to tell the time, but a time-glass was used by the chefs of the expedition to signal when it was the hour for their meals. Realising this, Garrett was using his notebook to keep track of those meals so he could signal a stop to sleep at the proper moment – whatever Bartrand thought, it would do them no good to continue while fatigued – with the added benefit of counting the days of their journey.

So far, they'd met no resistance on their path to the ancient Thaig that was their destination, nor any wealth...yet the Deep Roads was still a _fascinating_ sight...and a _sad_ one.

First of all, the Deep Roads were _dark_, the odd glow from a magma-filled pit illuminated some sections, as did a strange moss appearing wherever the damage was heaviest, yet that was the only source of natural light in the endless corridors and caverns. Other than that the group largely relied on a few lanterns at the head of the column that with three shielded sides worked well in lighting up what was ahead of the group...as well as to their own eyes adapting to the gloom. Torches would have been inefficient and costly, only illuminating what was right near the person carrying it, ruining his night-vision while consuming wood that was better used in cooking-fires. _At least the Deep Roads aren't cold, quite the opposite_.

Merrill had spoken of ancient elves visiting the Durgen'len – the Dalish word for the dwarven people – and describing every great hall in the Deep Roads illuminated with runes that had lit up the roads as if it had been daylight within. Yet now nothing Garrett thought to be a rune was glowing, some covered by rubble, other simply dull rock, yet more seemingly chipped away, as if _purposefully_ sabotaged. Sandal – Bodahn's 'son' and a savant with runes – had many a time been caught eyeing what little remained of these carvings on the walls with sad eyes.

Much of the Deep Roads was in ruins, bridges over great chasms having withered away or being smashed asunder, walls had collapsed and entire tunnels were gone under piles of rubble. Here and there, marks of civilisation could still be found, a chipped pewter cup, a rusted knife, a dwarf's skull still in a cleaved helmet, even the odd wagon, its wood breaking apart at the merest touch as the ash of whatever had been inside it drifted through the still air. Yet there was also the moss growing there, even the odd insect, Nug and Deepstalker... it was like looking on wasteland, but one slowly recovering. _Life, it's resilient_. Garrett found the thought surprisingly comforting. _We Hawkes are resilient, we'll rise anew, from poverty to riches, in mere days_...

But what remained of the Deep Roads was still glorious to behold! Even if they were cracked and large sections were nothing but rubble...the walls and columns were _amazing_. The engineering required to build them...Garrett couldn't _imagine_ the scale of the work that had been put into it. They had passed some chambers taller than the highest tower in Kirkwall and as wide as the city's main harbour! Each wall, each column...it had all been built with the greatest care in terms of support but also artistic skill, speaking of a former wealth even an Orlesian noble would have envied. They had passed a pair of bronze doors – smashed apart by some Darkspawn horde perhaps hundreds of years ago – that had been covered with a complex weave of small figures in great detail from top to bottom, a work that must have taken a _decade_ to complete by some master. However sad the sight of it gathering dust was, it was still a privilege to see such skill and beauty, especially for one as thirsty for new knowledge as Garrett.

Sadly, the only one seemingly fascinated by all these sights – after the initial amazement most had gotten bored with it – was _Merrill_. The elf clearly shared his love for knowledge, both being curious about how the dwarves had managed to build such impressive chambers and how long it had taken...much to the annoyance of the expedition's chief-engineer who now kept as far from them as possible after a mere four hours of questions. _Eh, at least __someone__ is willing to discuss such things with me, even if she's an elf_...

The thought made Garrett frown, unsure of how he'd gotten to the situation where he was _voluntarily_ staying near Merrill in what was almost a _social_ setting. He was uncomfortable enough around elves, but a _Blood_ _mage_...it made his skin crawl just thinking about it.

The answer was simple, there was no one else.

Garrett was not like Carver, he wasn't very social, meaning the idea of trying to make friends with the odd assortment of people on the expedition seemed not only difficult, but judging by what he'd seen so far of them – they were just a step above thugs, some not even that – undesirable. He'd actually _tried_ speaking to the Rivaini guard, but not only was the man as disinterested in their surroundings like the rest, but speaking to him was like speaking to a wall, the man as expressive as a Qunari sentry.

That left Garrett's companions, but precious few were available.

With Bartrand getting more and more testy over their lack of finds on the way to the Thaig, as well as ever more grumpy over having to share the gains from 'his' expedition once they reached it, Varric was more or less constantly with the man, trying to mollify him. _You'd think he'd be pleased we're on the road_..._he's less thankful that Carver_. Garrett grimaced slightly, for all his brother's faults...Garrett missed him.

As to Fenris...Garrett liked to think he and the elf had at least a clear relationship and understood one another...but there was little in the way of love between them, and no room for talking about curious walls or history.

Anders was another choice, but the man was not only bothersome to speak with normally – sooner or later he'd turn to the topic of mages and their oppression, and then you'd have to listen to his extreme vitriol for _hours_ – but ever since they had entered the Deep Roads the man had been sporting a haunted look of grief and pain that forbade any conversation but that relating to work. _I suppose it's best not to distract him from sensing the Darkspawn anyway_. Garrett was glad Anders could sense the creatures, it was better to know the beast was lurking in the darkness than to live in uncertainty.

Bethany was another...curious problem. Normally she loved staying with and talking with him...but with everyone in the expedition knowing – and more importantly, _accepting_ – her being a mage, she'd shied away from his company. For not only was her being a mage apparently _not_ scary while in the Deep Roads – perhaps the distance from normal society and its ideas playing a part in that – but she was even _appreciated_ for what she was...and Garrett knew her well enough to understand that was like wine to Bethany. So she walked up and down the column, speaking to people, _laughing_ with people...and Garrett couldn't make himself pull her aside, to warn her of the future...he just couldn't do that to her. _She's too happy_..._finally_ _allowed_ _to_ '_be_'... Garrett grimaced, glancing back and finding Bethany laugh and blush at something a Dwarf had said while holding up a shovel. _Maker willing, she'll be free to be like that when we leave the Deep Roads rich_..._I'll make her untouchable by the Templars, I swear it_. Closing one hand into a fist, Garrett forced himself to look forward before Bethany noticed his scrutiny, there was no point risking ruining her good mood.

There was also Maric, but while the dog trotting next to him was a nice companion, it was a _silent_ one, and while Garrett _could_ hold a conversation with Maric – however much that earned him odd looks – it was a very basic one. Not to mention that while Maric was a loyal companion, he had no appreciation of such things as art, culture or history...Mabari or not, he was still a dog, and such things were unimportant to him.

And that left Merrill..who'd shown herself not _too_ bad at holding an intellectual conversation. _Maybe elves from the Dalish are more intelligen__t than those living in the cities_...? Garrett dismissed the thought with a self-conscious shake of his head. _That sounded far too much like how the Orlesians assume themselves to be more intelligent than Fereldians_..._I base it on no facts_. With a grimace, Garrett shook the uncomfortable thought aside.

That's when the elf, walking on his right side, spoke up, making him flinch, for a moment afraid she'd read his thoughts. _That would have been, after speaking with her for half a month, awkward_... "I hope we get to see the statue of a Paragon." Garrett arched an eyebrow, waiting, he'd learnt if you did that, Merrill would usually add something more to explain the words she'd blurted out. The elf, smiling as she looked straight ahead, proved him right. "I've read that the dwarves make them in meticulous detail and _really_ big...would be interesting to see one..." She frowned, then looked up at him. "...you think they make them nicer looking than the dwarf really was? Like a really warty nose not being included?"

Garrett had heard Carver and Bethany speak of Merrill, not to mention that many of the others had volunteered their opinion, and nearly all thought the way she posed such questions with those big eyes of her was 'cute'...Bethany had even gone as far as describing her as 'childish'...but Garrett actually found that unfair. She was an elf, and therefore untrustworthy, _and_ a _blood_ _mage_...yet the questions she posed – while perhaps _sounding_ silly – were actually ones worth thinking about. "You mean if they glorify those they make Paragons and make them seem more impressive than they really were? I wouldn't be surprised, statues in many places show far too fine features on men and women for it to be real, they can't _all_ have been that good-looking." Garrett shrugged, looking ahead. _Maker, is that another intersection ahead_? _No, more like a collapse into some cave on the side, judging by the rubble_. "Not to mention Andraste, she's pictured as some ethereal beauty in a dress, when she was technically a 'barbarian' and spent her entire life fighting and travelling to forests...realistically, she'd wear mail and leather and carry an axe, rather than be in a dress and carry a book."

"Hmm...sounds like it, yes." Merrill tapped a finger against her pointed chin. "It's probably hard to worship something that looks like you but worse." She frowned. "_Is_ it worship though? The Paragons, I mean...they know they were mortal, after all..."

"I think the dwarves would say it is." Garrett cocked his head to the side, pondering the question. "Though perhaps not in the same way...no Paragon can or would claim divine inspiration like Andraste, and that's what _makes_ her divine." He shrugged. "Though I've heard dwarves speak of the Paragons _deeds_ as the important thing...so maybe the worship is akin to seeking inspiration? I'd ask a dwarf, but those that follow the dwarven traditions here don't seem to like such questions..."

Merrill hummed, then nodded, hesitated as Garrett felt her throw him a glance...then finally spoke up again. "So...you believe in Andraste then? And the Maker?" Garrett glanced down at her with an arched brow, making her shirk away, looking at her feet. "It's just...I've heard you speak ill of the Chantry..."

"The Chantry is _not_ the Maker, even their own records show the great gap between Andraste's death and their creation." Garrett scoffed. "I speak ill of the Chantry for the way its Templars have hunted my sister and my family for decades. I speak ill of their wealth that far too often is squandered rather than spent on helping the masses, as they claim they are. I speak ill of it because it seems more and more centred on preserving its power, than being a centre of worship." An image of his time in Denerim flashed before his mind's eye. _They left us to starve when we were too filthy to enter their Chantry_... "I speak ill of it for their _demand_ that you follow _their_ rules, even if you're a citizen of a _nation_, or you're a heretic fit for the dungeon...in their _own_ books, Chantry law should _not_ override that of say Ferelden...yet I saw it happen again and again...it's despicable." Merrill, taking a step away from him, looked a little worried at his words, making him shrug as he assumed a less hostile tone. "I'm saying I take exception to their actions, not their worship."

"Ah." Merrill nodded, big eyes narrowing as she thought it through. When she looked up again, it was with a curious light in her eyes. "So...I know you don't do things without a reason...why _do_ you believe in the Maker and Andraste?"

_You're trying to convert me to your gods_? _That's your plan_? Garrett shook the silly thought aside, it didn't make sense and...it was _hard_ to attribute Merrill to being manipulative, despite his exceptions to her kin. "By proof and deduction." Garrett replied, triggering a little titter from Merrill before she assumed a more solemn expression under his glare. _Expected that, did you_? "I know demons and spirits exist, I haven't seen it myself, but Bethany has told me of the dark city in the fade..."

"Oh, I've seen it too!" Merrill chimed in with a smile, though it drained away quickly. "Always makes me a little sad..."

Garrett nodded, Bethany had said something similar. "I know all these things, and I know Andraste's ashes apparently cured the deathly ill Arl Eamon in Ferelden, and even before that...her deeds are at times impossible to believe once you read of them..." Garrett shrugged. "Seems to me, that the existence of spirits and demons is the strongest argument of all. If such things can exist in another dimension, why not the Maker and the souls of the dead? Is it so unbelievable?"

"Not at all, I agree." Merrill nodded, smiling eagerly...and then got a wicked little smile on her lips. "So by that reasoning...you think the Dalish gods exist too?" _Eh_? "I mean if one god can exist, why not others? Is the reasoning only valid for the Maker, but not Falon'Din?" _Oh, clever elf_... Garrett didn't know if he should be annoyed or impressed by the woman's argument.

"I...suppose you have a point there." Garrett hesitantly replied, raking his brain for a good counter-argument. _The Black city_..._no, that's a poor argument, could be something explaining it in elven lore too, for all I know_..._I should ask her about that later_. "Yes, you're right." He offered a nod. "Though don't expect me to start worshipping them."

"Oh I won't..." Merrill was grinning. "...I'm just happy a human _finally_ admits that they _could_ exist...people are so defensive about that, you know?" She shook her head, assuming what Garrett assumed to be an angry face as her voice turned a poor version of a male's bass. "'No, there's only one god, and he's the Maker. I will not listen to anything more; get away, knife-ear before I smack you...'"

Garrett felt the corner of his lip tug upwards, then forced his face back into neutrality before the elf would think he was encouraging such preaching to other humans. "The existence of only one god is central to the belief of the Chantry and their worshippers. It's not surprising you get such an answer when I myself, not a follower of them, has trouble with it." He hesitated, then found himself saying what he really shouldn't have to say. "You should be careful with that though, some might react violently if you start speaking of the Dalish gods in Kirkwall...there's no point getting into a fight over it." He shrugged. "Besides, elves and humans should stick to their own."

"I guess I agree with that..." Merrill muttered, suddenly sounding sombre as she looked at the ground before her feet. "...and for some reason I don't like that." She offered him a pale smile. "If we always stuck to our own, we would never have met."

_Oh_... Garrett nearly stumbled, a little taken aback by the implication. _She doesn't like being an elven isolationist when that's all Dalish are_? _She doesn't like_..._thinking_ _elves_ _to_ _be_ _better_...?_ Because we work better_..._together_? Garrett found himself looking away from her smile, bothered by a sting of guilt in his chest as his mind futilely tried to come up with a counter-argument while being assailed by a picture of the grinning Athenril atop of him._ Why am I instinctively trying find a reason for her not being right_...? Bothered by the thought, Garrett found himself unable to come up with a retort.

_I'm going to have to give this some thought_...

That's when a hand landed on his shoulder.

Turning, Garrett found Anders practically on top of him, the mage's breath – as always – smelling of Lyrium._ Is that due to Justice_...? Garrett ignored the thought, the worried look on Anders' face being the immediate concern. "We have a problem."

Slowing down, Garrett let the mage interpose himself between Garrett and the worried-looking Merrill. "What is it?" Behind him, he sensed Bartrand and Varric move closer, some of the people along the column exchanging looks as worried whispers trickled along its length.

"Good news and bad news." Anders replied, though the smile he sported was a pale one. "There's only a single band of Darkspawn under the entirety of the Free Marches as far as I can sense, most are still in the south. But you told me to keep an 'eye' on that single group...and, well...they're coming this way, _fast_." Noticing Garrett's look, Anders pointed ahead and towards the cave having opened up on the right side of the tunnel ahead. "From that direction..."

"Bloody Grey Warden..." Bartrand growled as he came closer. "...you've led them right to us!"

Anders though, shook his head. "They sense me, but they also _know_ these tunnels...they've been shadowing us for a _week_ now..why do you think Orzammar dwarves prefer to stay in Orzammar?" He turned his gaze back to Garrett. "We both know this attack was a long time coming, the Darkspawn have decided to make their move now, we must make ours."

"Agreed." Garrett replied, nodding as he tried to think. "How many are there?"

"A hundred or thereabout."

Bartrand let loose a curse while Varric muttered something under his breath...and one of the nearest workers, having overheard them, loudly whimpered. Garrett, grimacing, eyed Anders. "No way to...lead them away?"

The mage shook his head. "No, as I told you, they know we're here. I'd lead some off, the rest would come after you...I doubt it would make a difference." He gave a grave smile. "Besides, the one competent healer leaving on his own? It would be suicide for the both of us."

"Fine, then we'll have to take them on..." Garrett eyed the wide tunnel with a nervous twitch to his sword-hand. _It's too wide, even if we form the wagons like a wall and employ the workers that have already said they are no good in a fight_..._no, it won't work, they'll break and then it'll be slaughter_. _The darkspawn chose the spot well_..._that's_..._worrying_. "...somehow." _We can't stay here, not if we're to fight them_. "All guards! On me!" He turned to Bartrand, decision made. "Take your workers and form the wagon in a circle here, arm them as best you can, anyone gets past us shouldn't be able to get through such a defence." _Unless they overwhelm my group and surge on in strength_.

The dwarf, eyes wide, tried to speak, only to cough and nod, his face turning grim as he turned and stalked back towards the rest of the column. "Okay, you lazy sods! Get your arses-"

Garrett ignored the rest of the dwarf's talk as he focused on the group coming to gather around him. His companions as well as the hired guards, all looking worried or grim...and not a little afraid as they sensed the danger they were in. Garrett spoke quickly and to the point, knowing time was of the essence. "There's Darkspawn coming. We need to find a better position to face them from, follow me!" With that, Garrett turned and began to run towards where Anders had indicated, the rattle of arms and armour making a racket as the others followed.

The long road they were in had indeed suffered a breach at the right side, Garrett noticed, as if something massive had once smashed right through the wall, ripping apart much of the floor in the process. Striding down a slight and wide slope, Garrett found the cave they were entering to be a wide tunnel of crudely hewn rock, the ceiling covered in pale and glowing lichen._ Too wide, too open_. Garrett continued on, the gasps for breath and scramble of armour filling the tunnel, blotting out any sound from the approaching Darkspawn, if there was any.

Then-

_Thank the Maker_!

"Halt!" Raising a fist, Garrett looked at the ground in front of him as the others scrambled to a stop. The tunnel was narrowing in front of him to the point that it was forty feet wide, the smallest he'd so far seen, and further ahead the ground dipped into a gentle but still usable slope. Not only that, but there was a split in the path just ahead of where the ground sloped, the smaller path leading up to a couple of larger rocks that created something akin to a platform for a few select persons. _Perfect_... Turning, Garrett gestured as he snapped out his orders. "Bethany, Merrill, Anders, Varric! Up on those rocks, find cover! Fenris! You stand at the base of those rocks at the top of the slope, I'll be at the other side!" His group, used to following his orders, smoothly moved to obey. "You eight, you're up front between the two of us!" Garrett picked out the young boy in plate as well as the fat dwarf, along with six men and women carrying a mix of axes, swords and maces, all dwarves. "The rest of you, up behind the front line, ready to help!" Garrett singled out the Rivaini man and a mix of men and women carrying glaives and spears, although some also carried shorter weapons, with the majority being humans they could perhaps help the dwarves up front. "Maric, stay behind me!"

Moving to take up his position at the far left of the rough battle-line he'd formed, Garrett watched the rest of the warriors reluctantly put themselves in position, licking their lips and nervously touching their weapons as they looked ahead. Following their gaze, Garrett found himself looking down an all too gentle slope –_ could have done with something steeper_ – as well as a dark pit where the ceiling dropped low, concealing much of the tunnel ahead and only revealing a large open ground at the base of the slope a mere hundred feet away. _Too close to our position for sure, but we can't risk going further_... Straining his hearing, Garrett could swear he could make out the slightest sound of running feet, a sound getting _closer_.

Forcing himself not to swallow the lump in his throat in fear of revealing how close he was to shaking at that growing sound, Garrett forced himself to speak up, to say the words of truth to still his own fear as much as that of the men and women to his right. "If you run, you'll get lost in the tunnels with no food and die, if the darkspawn don't find you first. If you run, there will be no safety to find in the wagons, if you run, you'll die." He turned his head, watching the warriors pale as the sound of running feet grew louder...and then he noticed Varric frowning at him, the dwarf nodding at the warriors with a grim look on his face. _Oh, right_. "But here, we can hold them. We're fewer, but we have the _position_ and we have the _mages_, each one capable of killing _dozens_ of them." A few looked up at that, finding the mages and Varric standing over them on a platform of rocks almost resembling a crude tower. Forcing a smile, Garrett turned his gaze to his sibling. "Bethany...no holding back."

In response, the young woman grinned back, palms held upwards at her sides as fire suddenly danced between her fingers, excitement of finally being allowed to use those powers to full effect colouring her features...and a few of the warriors along the battle-line chuckled, knowing that look all too well from previous battles they'd been in.

The chuckles quickly died out though as the sound of stomping feet grew louder, this time mixed with the too familiar squeal of a genlock.

_Right_. Putting his great-helmet on – suddenly _very_ glad he'd been able to afford it at the thought of a hundred darkspawn trying to cut his head off – Garrett turned to face the ground before him. Checking the grip on his round shield he drew his falchion, its weight steadying his breathing ever so slightly. Behind and to his right, the others drew their weapons as well, a puddle forming further away revealing that someone had just wet themselves, though none dared to comment. _We can do this, one warband, and then what we came for_..._just a little further_...

With a hiss, the first genlock appeared from the darkness of the cavern before them, the stunted creature crouching low as it eyed the group ahead, beady eyes narrowing as it reached back for an arrow in its quiver-

Only to drop face first into the dust to the sound of Bianca's loading mechanism cranking, Varric having landed a bolt square into the genlock's skull.

A ragged cheer broke out along the line, though Garrett and Fenris on each end remained silent, watching the ground ahead with worry.

Five more genlocks, all armed with bows, hobbled into the light. "Mages, hold until I give the command!" Garrett shouted even as one genlock jumped to the side, barely dodging another of Varric's bolts. "Troops of the line, stay low and take two steps back!" Following his own advice, Garrett inched backwards and crouched down with his shield up, barely allowing himself to see down the slope and making himself a tiny target.

Ahead, five more genlocks, then another five, ran into the open and spread out along the floor of the slope. One dropped onto its knees with a squeal, clutching at the bolt Varric had put deep into its gut, but the rest sent off an uneven hail of missiles, seemingly at random trying to hit the four on the 'tower' at the right and the main battle-line. Another two darkspawn entered, these a pair of hurlocks, their larger bows already notched and ready...and before they'd even loosed an arrow, a man with a thick black beard gasped and fell, his spear falling from twitching fingers as a genlock's lucky shot struck him in the eye.

The group stared at the man, watching as, without making a sound, he lay there and twitched, dead yet seemingly refusing to accept it.

_We've let enough come forth_. "Mages! _Now_!" Garrett straightened, glaring down at the darkspawn beneath.

The first blow was Merrill's, her lightning bolt instantly crossing the distance to the enemy, the shot leaving a burning hole through one of the hurlock's chests before it arced into the next, making the creature go rigid as the energy coursed through it. Energy enough to make smoke rise from the creature's armour as the skin on its face split, peeled and turned to ash.

Blinded by the lightning or staring at their larger kin in surprise, the genlocks surrounding them never saw the fireballs coming. Anders' struck first, hitting dead centre among the darkspawn and immolating two in the blink of an eye as others stumbled back, on fire or even with limbs burnt away in that one moment. Bethany's was far from perfectly aimed in contrast...but the heat of the explosion from hers was felt even by _Garrett_ as every genlock before him squealed and died, skin melting off bones like warm wax as their armour crumpled while glowing as brightly as the sun.

In moments, the darkspawn troop had been annihilated, turned to just some charred bones and blackened armour strewn across the ground.

The cheer rising from the line of warriors was less ragged this time, echoing across the tunnel as they raised their weapons in salute to the mages...the female human's in particular, whose face turned crimson red.

The cheers lasted but a moment though, as a second troop of genlocks with bows rushed towards the bottom of the slope, this time ten in numbers, accompanied by five hurlock archers. Garrett didn't need to give an order, the guards all dropped into a crouch, dodging the first volley of arrows by a large margin. "Again! Hit them again!"

Two fireballs hurtled forward...and harmlessly exploded halfway down the slope, making a bubble of energy shimmer as another hurlock appeared from the darkness, holding aloft a glowing staff looking like nothing but a tree-branch. A moan rose from Garrett's line at the sight...followed by the groan of a woman as she staggered backwards, the spear in her right hand remaining as the buckler in her left fell to the ground, the shoulder pierced by a dark arrow. Growling a curse, the woman ignored the other's stares as she glared down at the Darkspawn...only for a male dwarf to fall a second later, moaning as he tried to pull out the arrow stuck in his neck...and succeeding before anyone could stop him, the barbs of the arrow tearing out much of his throat and making his eyelids flutter as he died in moments, choking on his own blood.

Over by the 'tower', a pained shout made Garrett look up in panic, only to see that it hadn't been Bethany who'd been struck, but Merrill, an arrow stuck between her small breasts. The elf seemed fine though, muttering something in her own tongue as she ignored the arrow stuck in her armour and ducked lower, visibly gasping, no doubt with the air knocked out of her lungs.

Garrett, relieved that he hadn't lost the mage when he needed her the most, called out his next order. "Varric! Get him!" Instantly a crossbow bolt whizzed into the thigh of the hurlock mage. Growling, the creature still held the glowing staff aloft with its left hand as its right pulled backwards, a ball of fire growing within it. _Oh no_... "Get him now!" The archers around the mage glanced at the injury of their protector, then up at the tower..and as the second bolt shot through the air, slamming into the hurlock's forehead and ending his spell before he could cast it...they scrambled back towards the safety of the darkness. "_Mages_!"

The creatures were stopped short, green and brown vines shooting out from the ground, catching the creatures by the ankles causing them to roar and squeal in anger. And as the creatures were forced to stop and hack apart Merrill's stalling action another pair of fireballs arched down on the creatures...

Three of them, closest to the cave, managed to run away as they hacked themselves free at the last instant, but the rest became nothing but living torches as they died where they stood.

Again, the defenders cheered out their approval.

Garrett though, remained grim, thinking. _What's that_..._thirty_ _of_ _them_? _Twice as many left, and I doubt they'll let us continue this skirmishing_.

A roar from within the cavern, far louder than anything the darkspawn had given voice to so far, confirmed his thoughts, making the cheer of the other defenders come to an abrupt halt.

In the blink of an eye, the darkness ahead solidified into a thick line of hurlocks. Carrying broad shields, they marched forward slowly, shields raised over their heads while those at the front held them forward. _I_..._this is no frenzied horde_... Garrett, completely taken aback by the display of tactics before him, watched in horror as Varric's bolt harmlessly bounced off a shield while Anders' and Bethany's fireballs exploded on the surface of the 'roof' the darkspawn had created, merely making a few hiss in pain as the odd limb got exposed to the heat.

Around him, Garrett found the warriors hesitating.

Then, as Merrill managed to send a hurlock flying with a magically-hurled boulder while Varric too got a kill with a carefully aimed bolt to the neck of a foe, Garrett remembered his escape from Lothering. _When we climbed that mountain_... He turned, voice betraying his hurry. "Bethany, ice the ground!"

His sister's eyes widened in confusion at first, but then she nodded, sweat pouring from her face as she stretched out her hands, a stream of whiteness striking the slope between Garrett's force and the approaching darkspawn...and then Anders joined in with a spell of his own, turning the slowly hardening frost into a solid sheeth of ice._ Dammit, they're getting tired_... A glance up showed Anders instructing the other mages into drinking up those all too expensive vials of lyrium he'd managed to get a hold of. _That'll have to do_.

The darkspawn, hissing in anger, began to slide and slip as they tried to climb the ground, though with their steel boots they were already stomping their way up, kicking out footholds for themselves...and in doing so, exposing themselves.

A javelin from the Rivaini hurtled over Garrett's shoulder, skewering the skull of a hurlock with a sickening crunch as it was busy staring at the ice it was stomping a foothold into, the blow sending it back down the slope, dragging those behind it with it.

One of the rearmost hurlocks fell onto its back, clutching at the crossbow bolt buried in its knee as Varric gave voice to a chuckle.

A couple of the leftmost hurlocks were still holding up their shields to ward off fireballs, but as a massive fist shaped of stones cast by Merrill smashed through one shield and the hurlock behind it like paper, it opened a gap through which Bethany hurled a fireball, annihilating another five hurlocks as their shield-wall was made useless.

Roaring, the remaining Hurlocks surged forward. The ice and casualties sustained having turned their solid formation into a mess of individual beasts.

To Garrett's right, the fat dwarf in heavy plate smashed his shield into a darkspawn's knee as its axe harmlessly skidded off his shoulder before his own hacked off most of the creature's face. Further on, the boy in broken plate staggered back from a blow to his chest, only to then lurch forward and stab his blade into his foe's neck while a man behind him put his spear through another creature's eye before it could slash at the careless boy's neck.

One of the dwarves at the front fell, spitted on a hurlock's sword as the creature landed right on top of her...only for a glaive from the second rank to cleave the creature's head in two. Fenris' sword seemed to shimmer under the light of the lichen growing over the ceiling as it spun over his head...and then sent a cascade of blood flying into the air as two hurlocks lost a head and an arm respectively.

Two hurlocks were coming towards Garret, only for one to stagger into the wall and fall onto its back as a javelin bore itself into its chest. The other hurried on heedlessly, raising its jagged sword high...and Garrett took a swift step forward, his thrusting falchion opening the hurlock's face to the bone as his shield blocked the now blind swing of the creature. Hissing, it brought its sword up for another swing, its other hand clutching at the ruin of its face...and Garrett sent hand and head both tumbling to the ground.

Looking to the right once more, he saw the darkspawn primarily pour into the centre of his battle-line...and failing to make any real headway as they came at the line piecemeal. One hurlock, a broken spear in its gut, managed to grab the wrist of the boy in broken plate armour though, pulling him out of the wall of defenders and throwing him in among the hurlocks behind it before anyone could intervene

His screams of agony were mercifully short even as one of the hurlocks fell onto its knees, clutching at the sword in its chest.

Then, the hurlocks turned and ran, two falling on the way, one frozen to ice by an accurate shot from Bethany, another limping sideways and then tumbling over, trying to drag itself away with feeble legs, Varric's bolt stuck in its spine.

This time, even Garrett joined in the cheer, though it was a ragged call, the short engagement enough to leave every man and woman gasping for air as adrenaline and fear shot through them.

_How many was that_?_ Did we_...

Again, a roar rose from the darkness ahead, _louder_.

The hurlocks charging out were sprinting, a mere six in numbers as they hurtled for the battle-line even as what could only be a pair of gaunt shrieks ran with them on the right...and towards the 'tower'! "Varric!" Garrett forgot what he was about to say though, as a moment later, the darkness behind the six sprinting darkspawn turned into a _mass_ of hurlocks, at the centre of which stood a _giant_ of their kind. It was clad in bronzed plate armour and wielding a massive-looking two-headed warhammer that Garrett thought was probably meant to be a heavy ornamental thing made by some dwarf...but which the creature held aloft with ease and vicious intent...and the eyes under the helmet were fixed on _him_. Garrett's voice turned into a whisper. "...fuck."

The shrieks, coming straight at the mages, were suddenly running on the _wall_ of the cave, easily dodging a pair of fireballs that simply killed a single of the darkspawn vanguard. Merrill leveled her spear at the foremost, a bolt of lightning striking out...and smashing into the wall as the creature leapt at her, driving her to the ground...and itself right into the spear she'd braced against the ground in desperation.

The second shriek let loose an ear-piercing cry and leapt straight at Bethany, claws poised to strike. The woman cried out, her parry sloppy as the cry made her shirk back, making three claws tear three deep cuts across her shoulder. Tumbling onto her back, the woman somehow managed to shoot out a beam of ice at the creature, the blast freezing its left arm to the ground next to her head...and the creature, grinning, leaned over her with its free arm raised as Garrett stared in horror, unable to speak or even _breathe_...

Then a blade slammed into the creature's flat nose, the bayonet on Varric's crossbow digging in deep and making the creature freeze, looking up. Grunting, Varric loosed a bolt straight into its eye. Another shriek, making Garrett's ears ache as it echoed across the tunnel, and the creature's face exploded into a mess of gore and broken bones, the bolt nearly make its entire skull explode with the force of impact.

_Whew_.

Garrett's relief was short-lived though as the five remaining hurlocks with axes came rushing up. One fell, its entire body turned to ice by a concentrated stream of alabaster ice from Anders' staff. Another fell onto its knees, a javelin stuck in its crotch, making Garrett remember to pull loose the one the Rivaini had thrown earlier at an hurlock that had charged him. He turned to hand the missile over to the man...only to find the Rivaini gasping and on his knees as three arrows from the remaining genlock archers protruded from his chest.

Then the remaining three hurlocks were there, hacking, slashing, bashing...and dying under a hail of return blows.

Giving the remaining darkspawn plenty of time to close the distance at their choosing.

They came at him, a solid mass of darkspawn flesh and steel...and Garrett barely had time to note how they had formed up in a column against his side of the line, leaving the other side to face a solid line of shields to hold back missiles and charges as the stronger side punched through. _How_..._when did the darkspawn start to __think_!?

"Secondary lines on me!" Garrett called out, unsure if they'd understand even as he jumped over a hurlock's swing and split its skull with his own. "On _me_!" Ahead, hurlocks were crowding, pushing...and Garrett found himself taking a step back from their many swings, a step quickly taken by the darkspawn. _They'll take the slope, then they'll_... "Get in here!"

The fat dwarf, like the shot from a catapult, crashed past Garrett's right and into the wall of hurlocks, sending two flying back down the slope as his axe gutted a third and his shield shattered the jaw of a fourth, the sheer momentum of his charge stopping the darkspawn advance.

A fifth died, arm sheared in two...and then a familiar warhammer rose from the frenzied ranks of darkspawn, hooked into the back of the dwarf, and pulled him down the slope and into the horde. Once more, the hammer rose as the other darkspawn continued on at those still defending...and then it came down with a crunch of breaking plate and flesh, the dwarf dying with nary a sound from his lips.

But his life had not been wasted. The next hurlock came in range...and a glaive lunged past Garrett's side and smashed its left leg off in a fountain of blood. Another found its low thrust parried by Garrett's sword as his shield smashed its head, knocking it onto all fours...where Maric darted forth, biting the creature's face off with one snap of his jaws before dashing back and into cover of the better armoured humans and dwarves.

A dwarf in leather armour was to Garrett's right, his iron mace breaking the hip of a hurlock...and as it dropped onto it, Garrett hacked its skull open. The next hurlock tried to tackle Garrett aside, only for itself to fall to the side as he angled his shield to the side, before it could get up the dwarf broke its ribcage with two quick swings.

Then a hurlock's blade darted in...and Garrett was only dimly aware of the dwarf falling even as the responsible hurlock had a spear enter its mouth in a shower of blood while a woman in chainmail took the dwarf's place, a broken glaive in her right hand as her left hung limply at her side.

To his right, Garrett saw fireballs and lightning once more erupt from their 'tower' as the mages got back into position. And though the attacks now lacked the power of before, and meeting a line of shields mostly, they were at least doing damage. In a blur, Fenris was also charging in, his greatsword sending arms and heads tumbling down the slope as he circled the edge of the darkspawn column.

Next to Garrett, the woman buried her glaive into the back of a hurlock practically lying in her lap, its dagger tearing up her stomach and making her intestines spill over the ground even as she worried the blade in it, making sure they'd both die.

_Who's winning_?

The gilded warhammer of the darkspawn leader shot out somewhere to Garrett's right, turning a dwarf's skull into pulp despite his closed helmet.

_What's going on_?

Garrett's sword slid down a crude steel shield, striking the arm holding it and sending both onto the gory ground even as the darkspawn's own blade made a silvery gash across Garrett's armoured chest, a blow he knew he should have felt, yet didn't.

_I can't_..._I can't tell what's happening_!

Panic gripped his heart, but all it did was make Garrett throw himself forward, well remembering his own words of what would happen if someone fled. A hurlock's axe tore off a piece of chainmail from his shoulder as Garrett's shield caved its skull in with the rim, another tried to stab him, only for the chainmail to make the strike skim off harmlessly while Garrett's falchion sent the creature reeling back, its right hand now a stump.

Next to him, a darkspawn lay atop a human, the spear between them useless as one clawed hand pressed the shaft into the man's throat while the other again and again buried a short sword into the man's chest.

Before him, a sea of darkspawn surged forth, only for two spears and a halberd to kill the foremost, slowing the charge into a stumble. The halberd then struck down, killing the darkspawn slaying the spearman at his feet...and that was enough time for another hurlock to break past Garrett and into the halberdier, axe swinging and blood flying.

Garrett, knowing turning to fight the creature breaking past meant death, held his ground, deflecting a blow aimed at his head before thrusting his falchion into the teeth of a grinning darkspawn, making it howl and fall backwards, dragging several of its kin with it.

_Maker, I need to breath_-

Pushing past the tumbling hurlocks, their leader rushed straight at Garrett, the creature, even coming from below, seemingly towering over Garrett as the massive hammer in its hands swung from left to right. Garrett ducked...and was showered with stones and dust as the hammer slammed into the wall of the tunnel.

Stepping forth, Garrett had his shield pin the hammer between it and the wall as his falchion swung a backhanded blow at the hurlock's neck. It twisted its head though, making the blow glance off its bronzed helmet with a clang and a cruel chuckle. _What the_...? "Knew you'd be here..."

For a fatal moment, Garrett was stunned by the sound of the darkspawn, however guttural the sound was, _speaking_.

The haft of the warhammer struck before Garrett could react, the wood slamming into his helmet and making him stumble back in surprise...and freeing the head of the warhammer that seemingly without needing any momentum, swung up at the stunned human-

_Pain_!

Staggering backwards, Garrett dimly noticed his helmet flying through the air, his suddenly bare face feeling warm across the forehead as blood trickled into his eyebrows. "The Mother is gone, but we remain!" The creature, roaring, came at Garrett again, swinging hammer coming from left to right and catching Garrett's falchion with a devastating strike before the dazed man could tighten his grip, sending it flying away. The hurlock reversed the swing-

_No_! Garrett struck forward, shield catching the strike before darting up slamming into the hurlock's face. Groaning, the beast took a step back...and Garrett stomped down on the haft of its lowered hammer, forcing the weapon out of its hands and onto the ground. _Die_! He pulled back his shield, intent on slamming through the already dented helmet with the rim of his shield...and the beast darted forward.

Suddenly, Garrett was lifted off the ground, a pair of inhumanly strong arms around his waist and arms, driving all air out of him as the beast's arms seemingly turned into closing vices. "The Warden ruined everything!" The creature's hiss was right in his face, the foul stench of its breath like something rotting. "She took our Mother!"

_What_...? Garrett, moaning, reached down and drew his dagger, though his arms were caught in the creature's grip, he could still manage a stab...and found the blow skimming off armoured plates. _Again_. It found a chink..and got but half an inch before being stopped. _Do it again_! White lights dancing before his eyes, Garrett thrust again, making the hurlock grunt, but it was a sound of annoyance, nothing more. _Again, dammit_! Garrett pulled back for another strike...and the creature growled as the arms around Garrett tightened even further.

Blackness.

Then light.

Groaning, Garrett was dimly aware of his hand now being empty, the dagger gone. _No_..._I_ _need_ _to_...

"But we can have a new one...yes...a _new_ mother..." The words seemed to come from far away, the eyes in the helmet before Garrett like two molten pools of magma, swallowing him whole. "We will take one, _make_ one...give us...give us your _females_..._all_ of them..."

_No_! Garrett kicked, squirmed, fresh energy coursing through him...

And all for naught, the creature impossible to budge. It merely grunted as a crossbow bolt suddenly appeared in its left shoulder. It turned, and Garrett found walls of stone behind it, his foggy mind understanding it was using him as a shield as it squeezed the life out of him. "You're strong...yes...but I'm _stronger_! _Die_! Die so I can have your females!"

_No_. _No_. _No_. _No_. _No_...

Garrett's head lolled back, his mind struggling to order his body into action, but there was no energy left, no strength, no _air_!

Then, the grip around him stopped tightening...and began to widen.

_Air_!

Gasping, coughing, Garrett remained immobile in the grip of his foe as the hurlock, eyes wide, began to growl, its head trembling, gritting its teeth until three shattered, making blood pour out from its helmet. Its eyes narrowed, a low howl escaping it as it visibly struggled to tighten its grip...only to _fail_... "What...what is this...?" The monster gasped as from its eyes blood began to seep, the whole creature shaking as Garrett's feet once more found the ground.

A groan, and Garrett pulled free from the darkspawn and crashed to his knees...and the hurlock did the same, its whole body twitching left and right, a powerful right arm reaching down, twitching and jerking as it did so...and grabbing a hold of Garrett's dagger, lying discarded on the ground.

_No_... Garrett inched backwards, his lungs and body on fire, making the slightest movement painful.

Yet the creature didn't come at him, instead it howled...and drove the dagger upwards, into its own eye.

_Wha_...?

A sigh...and the creature fell onto its side, dead.

_What just_...?

Garrett could mostly hear nothing but the beating of his own heart, but now there were cheers also, cheers and the cries of darkspawn as his blurry vision registered the remaining hurlocks running down the slope, _fleeing_.

_What just happened_...?

"Good job, man!" Someone slapped his shoulder, sending a spike of agony down Garrett's spine. "You killed their leader!" A cheer. "After them! Kill the rest!" Another cheer, and a group rushed down the slope, killing any hurlock too slow to escape.

_I_..._did_?

Garrett turned his gaze back to the hurlock leader, watching the blood pool around its battered helmet, not able to register even _wounding_ it. _I_..._couldn't_ _have_...

Then, green filled his vision, making Garrett look up to find Merrill crouching in front of him, a worried look on her face. "Are you okay? You look a little...poorly...should I call for Anders? He's helping others with Bethany, but I'm sure if I-"

"I'll...I'll be fine..." Garrett coughed...and as he did so, he noticed Merrill's hand, the cut right across her palm...and his eyes widened. "You...you used...blood magic?" The last was but a whisper as he looked up at Merrill in shock.

The elf offered a guilty look. "I know I shouldn't but...but I couldn't help with any other spell! No one could! Varric couldn't get a shot and Maric was trying to reach you but was held back by all the darkspawn!" She looked down at the ground before them. "I'm...I'm not sorry." 

Garrett, dizzy, but too disturbed to allow himself to be distracted by it, stared at the elf in confusion. "B-but...the danger...if anyone had _seen_ you...they might have killed you right there, expedition or no, blood magic is where most draw the line..." He coughed again, but too confused to let himself just sit and breath. "And the demons, they could have...you risked having your soul ripped out and your body possessed...you risked..._everything_ by that..."

_For_ _me_.

"Well...yes." Merrill replied, cocking her head to the side with a smile, unabashedly cheerful and happy, _honest_. "But I think it was worth it."

Garrett stared at her.

Then he coughed, doubling over in pain even as his mind raced with equally painful thoughts.

_Athenril was one elf, and you're another, and I_..._I thought you_..._were the same_...

Guilt gripped him.

_I've treated you as a __monster__, and you go ahead and prove me completely wrong...and don't even gloat over it when I would have_..._when I would have felt __triumph__ over you failing_..._I who would __never__ have taken such a risk for you_...

Guilt and _shame_.

"Garrett? Are you okay?"

He could only whisper a reply, staring at the ground as he remained doubled over, despite the pain having passed.

"Huh?"

"I said...thank you."

"Oh, it's nothing." The cheerful tone only served to jab another blow to Garrett's self-esteem. "Anything for a friend." _Friend_...the word struck him like a blow. _I've only viewed you as a tool_..._everyone_, _all_ _who have_..._Maker_... "Do you need help up?"

Looking up, he found the elf on her feet, smiling without the slightest hint of treachery or trickery...and Garrett found himself believing it.

Still, he hesitated.

Merrill, looking unsure, began to lower her hand...and then Garrett took it. Due to their difference in size, her help was minimal as Garrett rose to his feet, yet he still found himself blurt out another. "Thank you."

Without a hint of guile, the elf smiled back. "Anytime."

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for being as awesome as one can get._


	34. Chapter 34

"So if the Darkspawn were created through Tevinter magic, does that mean they deteriorate in time?"

Next to her, Garrett was frowning, as he usually did when she asked a question. It had taken time, but Merrill had by now realised that _that_ frown wasn't one of disapproval, but of thought. He had many frowns, but she'd started to recognize most of them, just like she was starting to understand when Isabela was joking or being serious...it was just a matter of trial and error. Merrill smiled at him though, trying to encourage him to reply._ He's been awfully quiet since we stopped those darkspawn_..._is he mad with me_?

Merrill still couldn't feel bad about her choice to use blood-magic. Yes, however discreet she'd been, and however little she'd used, there _had_ been the risk of her being found out or the spirit answering her call being stronger than her, that much Garrett had been right about. But she was _always_ careful about when she used magic in general, and blood magic was just another _form_, one where knowledge and judgement was the best shield against magic mastering you, rather than the other way around. _Plus, if I hadn't used it, he'd have died_..._surely when lives are in the balance, even he can admit that blood magic can do good_?

Yet he had looked so..._shaken_ when he'd realised what she'd done...like she'd somehow upset him by using such magic, despite the fact that it had been to save his _life_.

Merrill hated to be mean, but she found that annoying. _He's so smart otherwise, why be close minded about this_?

And now he was barely talking to her anymore, seemingly deep in thought. "I mean...if they come from the Fade, then the Darkspawn are technically possessed...and possessed people usually...burn out?" Merrill frowned, she didn't like having one-sided conversations, she'd been stuck talking to herself back in the clan far too long already. _I hate being alone when others nearby aren't_..._maybe__ I should try talking to someone else_?

The thought brought a grimace to her face. Fenris and Bethany didn't like her, that much was plain, and Varric had last time she'd tried talking to him nicely but firmly told her to stay away while he dealt with his fretting brother. And _Anders_...if Merrill had to endure another attempt of his to recruit her into his 'freedom fight', she'd go insane._ He might not try that right now, but that's just because he keeps looking so sad_... She shot a glance back, finding the Grey Warden looking at his hand, a hand freed from the usual glove as he traced the black cracks along its surface with his fingers, grief in his eyes. _I_..._don't think I want to ask what he's remembering_...

Of course, there were more people than those in the expedition...but while they'd seemed more respectful than frightened of her magic, as well as appreciative of her efforts in repelling the Darkspawn, people still viewed her somewhat...oddly. Especially the _men_...and Merrill wasn't so innocent that she hadn't noticed what the only other female elf, _did_ for them... _I hate to be rude, but I don't trust those smiles they give me_...

There weren't many choices in people to talk to, when it came down to it. Except, perhaps... "What do you think, Maric? Do you think Darkspawn are permanently possessed?"

The dog, partly hidden behind Garrett's bulk looked up at her with a cocked head, then gave voice to a huff and looked away.

"No?" Merrill shrugged. "Maybe not, maybe they're just...sick?"

Garrett's voice was somewhat more tense than she remembered, but at least he finally answered her. "According to the Chant of Light, it was the Tevinters' own depravity that corrupted them, as they corrupted the Black City...I find that interpretation curious. Surely, if they were depraved, touching something pure would perhaps corrupt _it_, but not make their _own_ state worse...perhaps it is a curse of the Maker?"

Again, Maric huffed, apparently agreeing with neither of them._ Shame you can't speak_. Looking up at Garrett, Merrill found the man having something odd in his eyes, his lips a bit too tightly drawn, his eyes impossible to read...though that was partly because Merrill found human eyes small and alien._ Humans still look odd to me after all this time, I'll get used to it though, I'm sure_. "Maybe, but that sounds rather mean of him..."

"Could just be demons making the Tevinters more possessed than ever before when these mages opened the Veil so thinly with their..." Garrett hesitated, grimacing. "...blood magic." He shot his feet a glance, looking annoyed.

_So_..._safer topic, maybe_? "I don't believe in demons." Garrett instantly looked up, one eyebrow arched and looking suspiciously like he was about to give her a lecture that would put Marethari to shame. _Or maybe not __safer_... Hurriedly, Merrill continued. "I mean, I know they _exist_...but demon is a _human_ term...everything in the fade is a reflection of _us_, yet alien to us. Each creature living within is a concept, an idea or a feeling, they can't help what they've been made as, and to call one a demon and another a spirit is like calling a wolf evil and a deer good...in the end, they simply _are_."

Garrett, eyebrow slowly going back down – making Merrill breath a sigh of relief – offered a curt nod. "Admittedly, yes, but a spirit en-capsules a _good_ feeling or idea, a demon one that will cause destruction or suffering."

"I don't think I agree..." Merrill winced, for a moment thinking Garrett – like most humans – would get angry with her for disagreeing, or worse yet, dismiss her out of hand like so many liked to do. Then she remembered who she was talking to – he might be a bit harsh, but he was fair – and evenly met Garrett's attentive look. "I heard of Anders and you in the Chantry from Varric..." The man grimaced at the mention, no doubt having little good to think of the memory. "...was Justice any different than rage there? Would it have made a difference?" Merrill shook her head. "Spirits exist in their own world, in ours, they are out of their element. Any concept they en-capsule won't fit into the world as it is...it is _we_ who are too complex to understand for _them_, not the other way around."

Garrett stared at her, silent.

Under his gaze, Merrill found herself squirming, still not quite comfortable around the large and somewhat intimidating presence of the human with the intelligence of a Keeper and the ruthless calculus of a starving wolf.

Finally, he relented, looking away as his shoulders slumped. "That is...a valid observation, I suppose." Merrill smiled. _Ohhh_..._my Keeper just told me to stop being silly_! _Knowledge isn't just knowledge though, one must interpret and understand it too_... "However, while you are right in that spirits and demons is a human distinction that might be unimportant when both decide to attack you, the fact of the matter is that the distinction is made for a _reason_." He shot her a glance. "A wolf might be a wolf, as you say, but that makes it feared for _being_ a wolf, while the deer is less feared, because it's less likely to do you harm...a spirit of rage will always be enraged and cause destruction, one of justice less so."

"I suppose that's true..." Merrill agreed, finding her lips forming a little pout, despite knowing how childish it made her look. Quickly, she shook it off, offering a polite smile. "I still think calling some spirits demons is unfair though."

"And you're free to think so." Garrett replied, making her smile a little more genuine...before he looked ahead and continued. "I disagree though, it's a useful description, a warning."

_At least he's not outright calling me wrong and refusing to budge_... Merrill grimaced, remembering all too well the many arguments with Marethari that had turned into long lectures into the dangers of magic that she'd heard a thousand times before. "I...okay then."

An awkward silence followed, or at least awkward for Merrill, as she found something in Garrett's brooding quietness...disturbing.

That's when a shout ahead echoed down the corridor. "I've found something!"

Everyone in the column ground to a halt, heads poking up to see, bodies tensing with eagerness at the thought of having reached their destination.

"Come quick!"

Before Merrill had a moment to think about it, she was running alongside a horde of others, all with eyes glowing with excitement for _finally_ being at their destination. Even Garrett, usually so reserved, was pushing the pace, grim satisfaction in his eyes.

What they found was a door.

A _big_ door.

A _very_ big door.

Merrill, only noticing she'd come to a stop when someone – she guessed Bethany by the sound of the gasp behind her – bumped into her back, busy as she was, staring slack-jawed at the sight. The door was as wide as the tunnel, meaning six wagons could pass through it abreast, with room to spare...and round as it was, the height was equally impressive, making the thing tower over the people staring at it. Of dull black, its surface was marked with a few dents, rusted weapons that seemed of darkspawn origin littering the ground in front of it...attempts to enter that had been abandoned after gods knew how long.

It was also decidedly _closed_.

At first, the amazement at the sight lingered, then worry entered Merrill's mind as the group around her shifted where she stood...and then everyone looked at the scout standing close to the door, grinning at them like a madman as he pointed at the massive door, like they couldn't see it themselves.

Bartrand was the one who finally broke the silence, his harsh tone sounding even scarier as he spoke in a low voice. "I'm just going to ask this _once_...is that door..._open_?"

"Errr..." The scout, his arm slowly moving down, paled. "...I...I don't know...it doesn't look-"

"You _idiot_!" Bartrand's shout echoed down the tunnel. "I swear, I'm going to-!"

"Try opening it." Garrett grunted, making Bartrand shoot him a withering look tinged by the smallest light of hope. Looking to the human, Merrill found him with his arms crossed over his chest, his body looking tense, lips tightly pressed together. _Oh_..._is_ _he as excited as I am_!? _Who knows what'll be behind that door if it's still closed_!? She gave him another look, noticing the way his jaw tensed as he was gritting his teeth. _Errr_..._excited is probably not the right word_.

Ahead, the dwarf scout hurried to close the distance to the door, grunting as he pushed his hands against it...only to jump back in fright as a rumble resounded through it, a glowing rune appearing in its centre. _Oh_..._is_ _that_..._wow_...

"Dammit, what does that mean?! It's some kind old rune! I can't..." Bartrand sounded worried and excited in equal parts. "Varric! Help me!"

"You're the dwarf-dwarf here, brother." Varric replied with a shrug. "What do you want me to do? Tell it a knock-knock joke?" The man chuckled. "I think that's the only kind doors like."

Bethany exploded into a nervous giggle, a giggle turning into a cough as Bartrand shot her a withering look. Before the man could growl something more though, Merrill found her lips moving. "It says...welcome, fellow dwarf."

Everyone turned and looked at her, some in bewilderment, others dully...and not a few of the dwarves with disdain. Merrill flushed...but Garrett was quick from distracting her from the stares as he hesitantly asked. "How...do you know that?"

"It's a Keeper's job to remember." Merrill shrugged, remembering her hours upon hours of studying with a mixture of weariness and pride. "Even the very old things, like trade language between the dwarves of old and the Dalish before humans even existed in Thedas..." She turned her gaze to the scout before she lost her nerves under all the inquisitorial gazes, her voice cracking a little. "Try touching it again."

The scout, turning his gaze back to the door, nervously licked his lips before brushing the door with his fingertips.

A groan of metal and stone shifting...and the door slowly began to open to the left, the hidden hinge protesting under the weight even as the wide door made the dwarf and some of those closest to it scramble backwards. Merrill, finding her stomach in a nervous knot as dust rained down from the ceiling as the door shifted for what might be the first time in centuries, licked her lips. "Oh this is exciting, isn't it!? The door was _closed_! We might find...I don't know...an ancient dwarven society, survivors of the first blight! Or Dalish refuges from a time long ago!" The last idea was far-fetched, but made her bubble with even more curiosity.

"Yes, possibly..." Garrett replied, tension in his voice. _Oh, right, if everyone down there are alive_..._things will get complicated_.

As the dust slowly settled though, such worries and thoughts were laid to rest. Just inside the door, a skeletal arm was poking up from a small pile of rubble, a lone ring of gold glittering atop a withered finger. As more dust fell, more bones were revealed, piles of them, scattered as if some great wind had swept through, making the remains of the dead dwarves a chaotic mess.

Bartrand was the first to advance, growling something under his beard as he swiftly strode over brittle bones, grinding his ancestors to white powder even as a knife flicked out from his hand, quickly cutting the ring off the finger of the dead dwarf as he passed it before pocketing the little bit of jewellery. _Ewwww_...

The dwarf became just a hazy silhouette as he stepped deeper into the falling dust...and then came to a stop, a choked sound escaping him.

As one, the rest of the expedition began to inch forward, unwilling to walk over the brittle bones ahead, yet all too curious to just stay back.

Fortunately, the dust was dispersing...and with it everyone stared in wonder at what was ahead of them.

Ahead, a myriad of round gates, these ones built in red steel, sealed the entrances to various black structures that looked more like _human_ houses in a human _city_ than something Merrill had expected from dwarves. _Tevinter inspired_? _Before Andraste at least, from when the empire traded much with the dwarves_..._it must be_. _It must be_..._old_. Great pillars of black obsidian rose upwards, towards a ceiling Merrill couldn't even _see_...since only the lower parts of the city before them were illuminated by glowing runes chiselled into every pillar and wall.

That is, those walls and pillars not _covered_ in gold.

Merrill, eyes like saucers, watched as the city before her, largely shrouded in darkness, glinted and glittered as every doorway, every corner, every _window_...revealed gold used in their very architecture. Some structures seemed to be built in almost _only_ gold, others were mostly black but covered in fantastic weaves of golden decorations. "It's...like the Golden City." Bethany murmured, coughing as dust continued to trickle down on them, making Merrill remind herself to hold her breath as she stepped over the fine powder the dead dwarves were turning into.

"I...don't see any statues of Paragons..." Merrill's observation was lost in the chamber, nothing but noise even to herself as she found herself staring at a single dried out fountain ahead of them, the white pool at the centre of a gold-covered square she only now realised they were _walking_ on. _So much gold_... The fountain was nearly lost from sight from all the treasure though. Chalices, plates, utensils, candle-sticks, coins, and piles upon piles of lumps of untreated gold lay around it, a pile large enough to fill Merrill's home to the ceiling and then some.

Bartrand, staring at it all, had dropped upon his knees. For once speechless.

As a great cheer rose from the expedition, many apparently forgetting they were getting a fixed pay, not a cut, Merrill couldn't help but hear Garrett mutter. "Interesting..." His tone spoke of relief, yet also curiosity

Following his gaze, Merrill looked to the right...and stared in shock at the large wall there, unpolished and shining with gold...a solid wall of glimmering wealth that still had the heads of since long rusted pickaxes stuck into it. Garrett was not looking at the gold though, but at more dwarven corpses.

These were not, like the others, crowded around the doorway, nor were they a chaos of brittle bones thrown together. Instead they were lying by the wall of gold in droves, a few still clenching rusted pickaxes, their legs and arms still held by rusty shackles. Not only that...and Merrill shuddered as she noticed it...but these dead still had skin, dried and crusted, moulded to their bones, but skin none the less. Skin glowing faintly blue where someone had carved runes..._directly into their skin_...? Merrill turned to stare at Fenris, confused, but the other elf didn't notice her gaze, his eyes busy looking over the wealth on display with an annoyed frown.

Then, knees trembling, Bartrand rose to his feet, making all look to him as he slowly turned to face them.

His grin, wide to the point that it was scary, made his voice almost _cheerful_. "Set up camp! Seek through the houses and get all the gold here!" Holding up a clenched fist, his grin got so wide Merrill took a step back in fright. "Get it _all_ here! _NOW_!"

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"So much..." Bartrand's voice was but a whisper. "...so much _gold_." Once more on his knees, the man was sifting his hands through the ever growing pile of gold at the centre of the square they'd entered.

Varric, standing behind the man, was shooting Garrett an amused look, but Garrett himself was too pleased to find Bartrand's actions funny. _This'll secure us for life_..._for_ _life_! The gold itself, the idea of _wealth_, was nice in of itself, but what it _represented_...it made Garrett's head spin. _We're going to be safe, at last, we're going to be safe_. "Yes, we won't even be able to load it all onto the carts, even if we leave unneeded equipment behind." Garrett found his lips curl into a smile. "Even split between us, we're going to be rich."

Bartrand flinched, grumbling like he'd been doing every time the subject of having to share came up, but then nodded, never taking his eyes off the gold, eyes and mouth wide in a grin as the reflection from many lamps around the gold cast his face in a yellow light. "Yes..._rich_..."

"This is a fascinating place." Garrett replied, finding the dwarf's grin somewhat unnerving, he chose to look around himself instead, viewing the many buildings around them in awe. "It's like a human city, yet _deep_ underground...Merrill believes it might be Tevinter inspired, and I'm inclined to agree, no statues of paragons in sight...this is a different dwarf culture than the normal one."

"Yet this Thaig fell anyway..." Fenris, further back, watching the growing pile of gold with grim envy, shook his head. "...but without the door ever being breached, odd."

"Yes, odd..." Garrett noted, shooting the dead dwarven miners over at the far end of the market a glance. _There is something off about them, did they die later than the others_? _Who killed them_? "If there was a civil war...where are the survivors?"

"Who cares!?" Bartrand snapped, then shook his head, hands picking up a chalice as big as his head, reverently holding it up to study the intricate markings covering it while his voice turned into a whisper again. "All that matters is the _gold_..."

"Okay, okay, brother, we get it." Varric moved forth and put a hand on his brother's shoulder...only to flinch as Bartrand shrugged it off...his smile was kind though. "We'll get all the gold, okay?"

"_All_ of it..." Was Bartrand's hushed reply, the man lost in his own world.

"Well...that was creepy." Varric turned to Garrett, shrugging. "Still, we've hit the jackpot...only with no water or food to find here, we have to move quickly, get what we can pack up and then head back." Garrett nodded in agreement even as Varric turned his head, looking to the mess of white powder that had been the dead dwarves by the – now closed for security reasons – main gate to the Thaig. "What _do_ you think happened to them? Maybe the darkspawn found another entrance?"

"Maybe." Garrett grimaced, looking around himself. His eyes unable to penetrate the dimly lit city they were in, but he still got the impression that it went on for _miles_. "Doubt we'll find such an entrance though, it's too dark and too many tunnels...this place is _massive_." His fingers itched a little at the thought. "You don't think we could find some sort of...library or archive here? Something that could give us answers?"

"That's my brother, always wanting to know more." With a polite cough, Bethany approached them, making Garrett offer her a wide smile. _Sister, you're safe now_..._all this wealth_..._you're_ _safe_. She shot his grin a surprised look, then her own features softened into a smile, probably reading his mind. "This is amazing to see though, I'd love to know more too...maybe another time though?" Her smile turned somewhat uncomfortable as she shifted where she stood, hugging her chest. "Erm...listen...it's hard to explain...but it feels like the veil between us and the Fade...it's like it's slowly thinning as we stay here..."

_Damn, that is worrying, especially considering this city full of corpses_... "Magic, figures." Fenris growled, shaking his head. "Even among dwarves, you're not safe from it."

Garrett shot the elf a glare, though the heat was lacking from it since Merrill had rescued him. _I_..._I dislike you, but I can't say this is because you're an elf anymore_..._how can I say you're an annoying elf and Merrill_..._though_ _less_ _so_..._is also bothersome at times_..._when you two are so different_? _Being an elf has nothing to do with what makes you annoying, and it's_..._it's not __right__ to view you being that as a negative, or to assume it automatically makes you something you're not_. Normally, Garrett would have taken such a realisation of him being wrong with a shrug, he usually just accepted it when he was wrong...but this time he'd been disproved by being saved by someone he loathed mostly due to an accident at birth...and that made it far too personal to his tastes. _I hate feeling guilt_. Garrett shook the thought aside, his irritation with Fenris was, after all, genuine. "Magic saved our hides against the darkspawn, _please_ take care of how you speak of it near my sister." _That __isn't__ a suggestion_... He glared at the elf.

Fenris only shrugged though, unapologetic. "I'll try."

Garrett couldn't help but sigh. _Fair enough_..._Maker, where did Merrill go off to_? _At least she's less of a headache and has some insightful ideas_... "Serah, serah!" _What now_? Turning after giving Bethany an apologetic look, Garrett found Bodahn, who'd worked as the expedition's equipment master, shuffle over to them, wringing his hands as he stared at Bartrand, vainly trying to make the man lift his gaze from the gold. "I...I can't find Sandal..." _Oh Maker, knew bringing that boy along was a bad idea_... Not that Garrett didn't understand why Bodahn had brought the lad along, he couldn't well make him wait in Kirkwall in his state.

"So? Who cares? He's _your_ son." Bartrand grunted, never taking his eyes off his prize. "Go bother someone else about it, if you can't find him yourself."

Garrett shot the man a disapproving glare. _Fine way to speak of someone's son_... A glance told him Varric was also grimacing in disapproval, shaking his head at his brother's back, a low mutter escaping him. "Brother, you're...Maker, I tire at times..." Looking up, Varric offered a gentle smile at Bodahn. "I apologise upon my brother's behalf, he's...well he's got a lot on his mind..." He shot the pile of gold Bartrand was still sifting through a glance, tone awkward. "...in a _way_..." A shake of his head, and Varric was looking back to Bodahn. "Where did you last see him?"

"Yes." Garrett agreed, always one to know the value of _family_, as he took a step forward and put a hand on Varric's shoulder, making the dwarf shoot him a smile as he eyed Bodahn. "Tell us and we'll help." He glanced back, finding Bethany smiling and nodding. "Sister, go find the others, we'll go on a little rescue mission." 

Bethany shot Bartrand a disgusted look, then nodded. "_Gladly_, brother."

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"What the...?"

They hadn't been walking for long, maybe half an hour, before they'd spotted their quarry. It had been a curious chase, with Bethany and Varric doing their best to calm a fretting Bodahn as Garrett – used to hunting back when his family had been on the run – and Merrill – who was a Dalish at heart, when it came down to it – did the tracking of the odd little dwarf now standing before them, practically leaning on a wall of solid gold. They'd taken it slow, marking their way at every turn, making sure they'd get back...for the city was indeed dizzying in size and complexity, built in multiple levels as it was...and the darkness did them no favours in trying to find their way.

Yet now, when they finally was before the lost boy...Garrett was unsure if there had been a _need_ for a rescue operation. _How_..? _When_...? _I_..._huh_!?

Bodahn certainly seemed to think so, the dwarf suddenly rushing forth with a speed Garrett didn't know him capable of as he hurtled into the bald dwarf boy and lifted him off his feet in a great hug, lips splitting into a grin. "My boy! My boy! There you are!" He shook the boy, still in the air, while his grin turned upset. "What have I told you!? _No_ wandering off alone!"

Sandal, smiling back, looking a little bashful, offered as much a shrug as his trapped arms were capable of. "I like Bodahn..."

"Like driving me mad, more like it!" Bodahn put down the boy, shaking his head as his relieved look turned angry, he shook a finger into his boy's face, gaze stern. "You don't do this again, you hear!?"

"Okay." Was the slow reply, the boy cocking his head to the side, not really looking like he'd understood the seriousness of the situation.

Meanwhile, Garrett was unsure if Bodahn's worry was _justified_. "Err...Bodahn...what's with all the destruction?" The ground around where Sandal had stood was covered in craters from some great explosions...and here and there Garrett couldn't help but spot a bony limb. _Undead_? Exchanging a worried glance with Bethany, he looked back to Bodahn and Sandal. _Veil's weakening, huh_? _That is_..._concerning_..._and why is it doing that_? "What's happened here?"

"Well...my boy knows to take care of himself...he's just not good at...judgement." Bodahn shrugged, looking somewhat embarrassed as he gave his boy some room. "But I suppose this is a bit...odd...Sandal, tell us what happened?"

The boy looked around himself, then shrugged, eyes blank. "Boom."

At the back, Garrett heard Varric snicker. Garrett was less amused though, and frowned. "Boom...how?"

"Enchantment?" Sandal grinned, holding up a pebble the size of a nut, the surface covered in glowing runes. _You got to be kidding_... Garrett shot Bodahn a glance.

And the dwarf beamed with pride. "He does that at times, you can never know how many he's got on him...never managed to make him make them for selling though." An apologetic smile. "Sorry." 

Shrugging, Garrett turned his attention back to the son. "Okay, Sandal. Sandal over here, look at _me_..." Slowly, the boy stopped looking at the wall of gold behind him to focus on Garrett with those eerily empty eyes of his. "Now, this is _very_ important..._why_, boom?"

The dwarf frowned, as if finding the question difficult...then smiled, looked down and poked a bony limb with his foot, revealing blue runes glowing along the skin still stuck to the bone. "Dead things...walking..." A deeper frown, the boy visibly struggling as he turned his head, looking to the golden wall...and pointing at a single pickaxe still stuck in it. "...digging." Garrett felt a chill creep down his spine. _Oh no_. "W-want...want..." Sandal struggled with the words, then looked back to Garrett, lips curved downwards. "...they want it..." _Maker, no_...

Behind him Garrett felt the others shift and exchange curious and confused glances...only Merrill – far more knowledgeable in the nature of demons than she should – seemed to have reached the same conclusion, or so her panicked whisper in Dalish suggested.

Turning, running, Garrett drew his sword. "Follow me! We must go back! _NOW_!"

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for sticking around, no matter my efforts. ;-)_


	35. Chapter 35

They heard the screams before they had even reached their camp.

That and a high-pitched keening sound.

Merrill, clutching her spear tight, ran, feeling light-headed as the world spun out of control. The group was running, fear etched in every face. Even Garrett, usually so calm, looked _terrified_. And around them...Merrill knew Bethany and Anders could feel it...yet despite that, she felt utterly alone while feeling the Veil ripping open. Already thin, it was now splitting like a bad seam, making the churning energies of the Fade spill out when they'd already been churning underneath the surface of the thinning Veil.

Merrill could almost _see_ the energies, making her wonder if the non-mages felt it too, the _energy_... _It's like a sea at storm_..._oh, Isabela would have loved hearing that_! Of course, the thought of the _sharks_ coming out of that sea put a dampner on that thought. She could _sense_ them, just at the edge of her mind...they were slipping into the real world far too easily, as if they'd done it _before_...and they were _hungry_.

_Hunger demons_? _No_..._or_..._almost_...?

Fenris was the first around the last corner, the elf cursing as he slammed into a skeletal figure, making it stagger before throwing itself at him with unnatural speed. Growling, Fenris smashed its face in with the pommel of his sword before slashing the blade sideways, separating its head from its shoulders.

Then, the group was standing there, frozen in horror at the sight before them.

To the right, the city spread out before them. The poorly lit houses were covered with flickering shadows as the darkness seemed to ripple and shift before them. After a moment of staring, Merrill realised it was the sight of hundreds of shapes moving.

Slow, but moving faster and faster, the keening cry was rising from them like a choir's, small glowing runes on their skin like flickering candles as the dry skin rippled with the movement over their withered bones.

_Ours, ours, ours_...

Merrill shook her head, the dry whisper in her head tickling something in the back of her skull, making her fingers itch as the gasps of the spirits echoed against the walls of her soul, wanting to feed on its energies. _On my greed_..._on_ _our_ _greed_. Merrill saw the golden wall to her left flicker, and swallowed. _Mythal, protect us_...

"Get away! This is _my_ gold!" Just before them, at the centre of the plaza where the expedition had made camp, Bartrand was standing atop the massive pile of wealth they'd gathered up, a large chalice in one hand that he swung it at the face of a limping undead, cracking its skull and sending it tumbling back down the golden slope. "No one will take it from me!"

_Ours, ours, ours_!

To the right, the myriad of undead began to run _faster_, their keening cry rising higher as most began to run straight for Bartrand.

Most, but not _all_.

A few of the expedition lay dead among the wagons on the plaza, the remaining guards among them, but the majority were over by the gate. Closed for safety against the darkspawn, it now became a death-trap as the press of bodies failed to open the unresponsive gate, their feet kicking up the white dust of the dwarves that had once died there as the possessed bodies rising from the wall of gold charged at them, hacking and slashing at the rear of the press of panicked people. Again, bodies would cover the gate in droves, to rot, decay and turn to dust.

A scream and Merrill saw a dwarf shove the only other female elf in the expedition back away from the press of bodies and towards the demons. The woman screamed, stumbled on a rock and fell onto her back.

A moment later a rusted pickaxe went through her skull with a dull crunch.

The dwarf only bought himself a second of life though. The undead wrenched its pickaxe free from the elf with surprising speed, the tool a blur as it sliced open the dwarf's back. He screamed...and it gripped him by the hair and dragged him down atop the dead elf, pickaxe coming down again and again as it turned his body and hers to a mess of hacked flesh and broken bones.

_We have to help them_! Merrill took a step towards the panicked crowd being hacked down...and Garrett grabbed her arm, dragging her away, his shout shaking with terror. "We have to leave! Go! Go! _This_ way!"

Merrill, her limbs turning to water at the truth of Garrett's words, and what they _meant_, found herself stumbling to keep up as the small group ran across the plaza. _This_..._we can't do this_..._we have to_..._we have to_...

_Ours_! _OURS_!

By the gate, a human fell to his knees, hands over his head as he futilely screamed for mercy.

One of the undead pushed its bony hands into his mouth, gripping each row of teeth with a keening cry...and in a horrifying display of strength, ripped the man's jaw off in a shower of blood.

As they ran past Bartrand, Varric called out, his voice seemingly distant. "Brother! Don't be a fool! Come on!"

Bartrand's eyes, glowing with anger at the cry, glared at Varric before he spun, the chalice in his hands caving in the skull of an undead trying to reach him with a broken shovel. "No! This is _my_ gold! We can't let them have it! _Fight_! Fight and get my _gold_!"

Ahead, Fenris, just a step ahead of Garrett, spun his sword over his head, blade a silvery blur as it cut through a pickaxe and its wielder both. The next undead crashed into the elf though, a thin blade of bone entering and leaving the silver-haired man twice in quick succession before with a grunt he shouldered it aside and smashed its skull into dust with a quick cut. His voice was a pained gasp. "They're fast...!"

Garrett grunted in reply, his hand suddenly leaving Merrill, nearly making her fall as his shield shot up, a pickaxe breaking off against the rim, the head flying over the man's shoulder and nearly into Merrill's face as Garrett's falchion replied with a slash that left the creature an arm shorter. Still, it crashed into him, shrieking into his face as a hand clawed at his neck, tearing at the chainmail before Maric slammed into it and pushed it to the ground, claws raking its eyes out as the hound leapt over it and onwards.

_Ours_! _Ours_!

Now behind them, Bartrand was calling out, his voice a hoarse roar. "Get back here, you _cowards_!" A cry of pain, followed by a hoarse curse. "Protect the _gold_!"

"It's the gold or your life!" Was Varric's reply, a cry of desperation. "Brother, _please_!"

_OURS_! _OURS_!

By the gate, the demons were moving _faster_, their arms a blur as they hacked and slashed, the blood rising like a mist from the trapped mob pressed against the gate, their screams of panic lost in the cries of agony as those at the edge were ripped apart.

And from the city, the demons were leaping into the light, bounding forward, fast as Halla as their keening cries rose into a fever pitch.

_OURS_!

Then the group crashed through a doorway of gold and black stone. Stumbling, Merrill and the others spun around. The last one to enter was Anders, the mage growling as he dropped onto his knees, hands glowing as he struggled to pull out a pickaxe stuck in his shoulder. Bethany, coughing and blood flowing freely from a cut along her leg, crouched down to help him, her hands glowing too as they struggled to heal the man while pulling the weapon out of bone and flesh. A moment later Bodahn and Sandal were with her, trying to help the mage to his feet.

Varric ran up to the doorway...and then stopped short even _before_ Garrett placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. Varric's face was showing...Merrill had expected horror, anguish...but what she saw was frustration and anger. "Dammit, brother! For once, _listen_ to me!" Bianca was suddenly in his hands, and further off a demon leaping at Bartrand fell, its head twitching hard to the side as Varric's shot ripped through its skull. "_RUN_!"

Bartrand...hesitated.

_Surely he must come_...? Merrill stared at the two brothers. One, eyes darting between his brother and the gold at his feet...the other, glaring back, as if thinking there was even a _chance_ Bartrand would make any other choice but to run for him.

Then Bartrand shook his head, growling as he spun, two hands gripping the chalice in his hands and swinging it about, driving the blur that was a demon back. "Never! I've come too far! I won't have it!" _What_..._but_..._he'll_..._how_ _can_ _he_ _think_ _like_ _that_!?

"Brother..." Varric's voice was a dull mutter as his shoulders slowly slumped, Bianca limply falling from his hands. "...you bloody..." Shaking his head, the dwarf turned his gaze away as ahead, a flood of demons surged over the mound of gold, towards the greedy dwarf that was like a beacon to their kind...and swarmed over him, his cry of agony mercifully short.

Quietly, Garrett shut the door to whatever chamber they'd entered, making darkness and silence descend upon the small group.

Around Merrill, all there was was darkness...and Varric's voice, a bitter whisper. "Fool..."

Only then did the man start crying.

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Anders was frightened. It was a strange feeling after so much time feeling nothing but rage and grief. The city of these ancient dwarves was different from anything he'd seen before, but it was still the Deep Roads, and the longer he stayed there, the more he was assailed by memories.

_I don't want to die here_.

_Not again_.

The Veil had mended only slightly since the slaughter of the expeditionary force, and Anders could hear the shift within the Fade, the mutter of demons, still hungry for the greed of those they'd so brutally massacred. It made Justice uneasy, the spirit slithering within his broken body like a snake of ice, wanting to lash out, to purge the demonic filth. _No, Justice, we can't. We would die needlessly_.

The answer was a low growl within, sending jolts of familiar agony through the cracks in his flesh as the trapped spirit struggled to contain himself...Anders hated that pain, it was like he was about to split about, his flesh once more cracking.

_Cracking_..._cracking flesh, breaking bone, flesh splitting_... Anders shuddered at the memory even as Justice went quiet, the spirit not quite capable of understanding such pain, disquieted by his host's horror. Darkspawn,_ hundreds of them...stone all around me...cold...so cold...ice...breathing ice...no escape...only pain...felt the blow coming, felt myself...shatter..._

Anders closed his hands into fists. _Don't shake, don't shake, don't shake_...

_Pieces of me, pieces falling down, raining to the ground, my soul catapulted into the void, a plaything for Darkspawn shadows in the depths of the Fade, the ones I've slain wreaking vengeance_...

Justice became perfectly still, a warmth escaping him as he tried to comfort his host, despite such ideas being foreign to the spirit.

_Thank you, friend_. Anders managed the palest of smiles, knowing his broken features would turn anything more into a grisly grimace.

"Anders?" Shaking his head, the mage realised the annoyance in Garrett's tone meant he hadn't heard the man the first time. Turning, Anders regarded Garrett, somewhat reassured at what he saw. The man was clearly afraid, though only the eyes revealed it. Other than that he looked steady, determined, level-headed. _A leader like Lynn_..._but at least this one still has a soul_. Anders wasn't sure the man would be leader enough to get them out of the current mess though. _Not that I have much choice in the matter_..._story of my life_. "You're a Warden, do you know a way out?"

A_h, yes, I being a Wardes, meaning I'm a super hero with the answer to anything when needed_? Anders suppressed the ironic answer all too readily._ I miss my funny side, when life was less_..._serious_..._or rather, when I could fool myself it was_. Instead, Anders shook his head. "I've never been in this area, and I have no maps to give but the one already given." A small light in Garrett's eyes went out. "However..." Anders looked about, noting the small chamber they were standing in, a large slab of stone over what had to be a tomb – obviously the building was a mausoleum – was the only thing in the room...and the broken wall at the far end, going into grey caves beyond. "...I bet our only chance is _that_ way...unless you wish to try opening the door?"

It was a rhetorical question, yet Garrett still shook his head, glancing back at the door with worry in his eyes. Yet so far no attempts had been made by the beasts on the other side to breach it...they seemed to be in the clear for now, and Anders noted how the man's gaze moved to the rest of the group, looking concerned.

Anders couldn't blame him, the group had taken a beating despite their attempts to avoid a confrontation, and while magic had healed the injuries, no rejuvenating spell could completely heal the mental and physical exhaustion hanging over the survivors. Only rest could do that, something Anders doubted Garrett would or _could_ allow at the moment.

Fenris was glaring at the closed gate as he stood to the side of it, the tip of his sword resting on the ground, a frozen sentinel, ready to suddenly burst into action to slay anything trying to enter, _welcoming_ the chance. _Maybe his pride got sunk by being stabbed by a mere skeleton_? Anders couldn't bring himself to smirk at the thought, he if anyone had known how powerful those demons had become. They had closed in on Bartrand for a _reason_, the man's greed like a shining light in the darkness, a worthy meal for creatures that too long had lingered in broken bodies, trapped as their source of nourishment had gone away. _Why did they enter those bodies though? It didn't seem natural, almost as if they'd been_..._summoned_...

Anders shot Merrill a suspicious look, despite knowing she had nothing to do with the breaking of the Veil. The elf didn't notice his gaze, her face even paler than usual, eyes brimming with un-shed tears as she stared at the door. The shock of what had happened surely having receded from her and leaving her a mental wreck...Anders had seen it before, even brutes used to the odd skirmish could be brought to a halt when faced by slaughter on a greater scale. _I could try rejuvenating_..._no, it would be a waste of mana, she needs rest, like all the rest_.

The thought made him frown in worry, glancing over at Bethany. The woman was huddled up in a corner, hugging her knees where she sat, blankly staring in front of her, a sheen of sweat making her unnaturally white skin shine like bleached bone. Noticing his and Garrett's gazes, she offered a pale smile, then looked away and coughed, a forlorn look in her eyes. The Deep Roads hadn't agreed with the woman, seemingly draining her even before the darkspawn attack or that of the demons...and she looked as tired as anyone _could_ be before they'd fall unconscious. Maric was – uncharacteristically, given he was essentially Garrett's shadow – standing next to the woman, head almost but not quite on her knee, a low whimpering sound escaping the dog as it tried to comfort his master's sister.

Bodahn and Sandal were also sitting down, the later with his head on the shoulder of the right, looking terrified for the older man that was reassuringly stroking his son's hand. Neither had gotten injured during the run for safety, which was a small miracle, but the strain and stress had gotten to the older dwarf, giving him a heart attack just as they'd tumbled into temporary safety. Anders had done what he could, so Bodahn wouldn't die, but neither would he be running any time soon, especially given how he'd have no time to get the proper rest he needed.

And then, there was _Varric_.

The dwarf had his back to Anders and Garrett. Sitting on the excessive coffin of stone, his feet dangling off the edge, he was looking straight ahead, at the door, or perhaps beyond, at his brother. _Or what's left of him, at least_. The dwarf was perfectly still, his weeping from when they'd closed the door having ceased within moments after it had begun...and Anders would have almost _preferred_ it, Varric's current stillness was...unsettling.

Anders and Garrett exchanged a worried look, then the later spoke up, breaking the stillness of the room. "You okay, Varric?"

As one, everyone in the chamber looked up at the dwarf. Whatever they saw from their angle...it was puzzling. Anders saw Fenris arch an eyebrow, Merrill frowning in worry and Bethany looking confused.

Varric didn't answer, his shoulders rising as he took a deep breath

Silence followed.

Then Varric exhaled, a long and tired sound in the dark chamber.

"Yeah..." The word was low and bitterly spoken, a far cry from the dwarf's usual demeanour.

Garrett was frowning now, perhaps disapproving of the answer, yet patiently waiting for more.

"Yeah, I _am_..." Varric turned his head, glancing at Bethany, then Garrett, a look of regret crossing his features before he looked back to the sealed door. "...and that's what saddens me." A grunt, and the dwarf dropped off the casket and onto the floor, still not looking away from the door. "Not all families are like yours, Garrett...a shame, huh?"

Merrill looked ready to answer, then noticed Bethany's slight shake of her head, and closed her mouth.

Not meeting anyone's gaze, his eyes concealed under a lowered brow and frown, Varric marched around the casket, past Anders and Garrett, and towards the hole in the far side of the chamber. His voice was dull, brokering no argument. "Let's go."

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for hounding me._


	36. Chapter 36

Having left the system of caves they'd escaped through behind – Garrett got the sense that the caves were not natural, someone had made them, like a secret tunnel – the group had found themselves into what had to be another part of the city...a palace.

Or so Garrett believed, with no windows that could help him orient himself, he was reduced to guessing on the décor.

The walls they passed were white, with decorative inlays of gold everywhere one's gaze turned, the high ceiling covered with poorly glowing runes that still emitted enough light to cast the long halls in a perpetual – and foreboding, in Garrett's eyes – twilight.

There was no furniture.

Nor any dead.

Not even a speck of _dust_.

The place seemed forgotten by the world, even the air only reluctantly parting before the group as they moved forth, making them feel like intruders.

Garrett feared it, feared what it might mean...the implication made him shoot Anders a glance. Was it just a trick of the light, or were the weary-looking mage's scars glowing ever so slightly? Looking back, Garrett could also see the others in the group...and what he saw worried him even further.

Fenris was scowling, the elf refusing to sheathe his sword as he slowly stalked forward, as if expecting the very walls to attack him at any moment, the man was also favouring his left leg, the healed wound in his side apparently still bothering him. Yet despite that, he was the one that looked most capable of handling a fight, if it came to it.

Merrill was shaking, the elf again and again looking back the way they'd come from, a look of guilt and horror on her face as she kept hugging her chest, no doubt thinking of all those they'd left behind. _Understandable, even if they weren't __our__ group, given her way of thinking, I can understand_..._I hope she can get over it soon though, we're in a tight situation as it is without her being in shock_... Garrett grimaced at his thought. _I'll_..._try_ _to_ _give her some time_, _she wasn't at Ostagar, this level of slaughter is new to her_.

Bodahn and Sandal were trudging on, the pair looking very out of their element among the warriors. Bodahn was still being supported by Sandal, as his breaths came out in pained wheezes. For a brief moment, Garrett considered leaving the two dwarves behind – they'd be of limited help now – but a quick glance at Merrill and a spike of guilt in his chest made him push the idea aside. _We need to stop, rest, but we don't have the time_..._not with our levels of supplies_. Everyone was carrying their packs, but those were _small_ packs, and none but Garrett had bothered to fill theirs since their last meal, making each only half-full...water-wise they were even worse off, with each one only carrying a half-empty sack. _We need to leave this tomb of a city, leave and find food and water, nugs, or even the moss in the caves, if need be_.

Then there was Varric...the man's every step was dejected, his shoulders slumped and head bowed. Even with Bianca strapped to his back, he seemed like anything but a fighter. Yet there were no tears in his eyes, no grief...only a frustration and bitterness Garrett couldn't quite get to grips with. _I've spoken to him many times, and never has Varric expressed any love or warmth for his brother, only brotherly duty_..._more to do with his mother than his brother_..._how must it have been, __growing up without such love_? The thought made Garrett think of Carver, of how the man hated the burden of duty to the family. Then of his own duty to the family, of how it had shaped him, worn him down, yet how he'd drawn strength from his love of his family. _To not have that love, yet to struggle on to protect those closest to you_... Garrett shot Varric another glance, a sliver of admiration in his eyes. _I suppose I shouldn't be too harsh on you for not grieving as I would_...

Unbidden, Garrett's gaze was drawn to Bethany, making his heart quake. Maric was walking besides the young woman, as if wanting to lend support, but unsure how...and the why was painfully clear. The Deep Roads had never agreed with Bethany, Garrett had noticed that a mere week into their expedition, but by now she was pale as a sheet, and she'd also picked up a small, but noticeable, cough. _And all the medicine is in the carts we left behind_... Garrett grit his teeth in his efforts to suppress his worry. Even as he watched, Bethany stumbled and caught herself on Maric, a little fitful cough escaping her. _This reminds me of the one time you had the chickenpox, I fed you soup in bed every day_... The memory made Garrett smile...and then he turned his head away from the sickly woman, fist thumping into his hip in frustration. _We need to get out of here_!

A growl from Anders made Garrett turn his head back though, noticing the mage staring ahead, a flicker of blue light in his eyes. _Huh_...? Turning to look forward as well, Garrett motioned to the others, making them tense and reach for their weapons even as Garrett himself drew his sword and – with Fenris keeping close to him – slowed his advance into a wary crawl.

Ahead, yet another doorway was open to them. But here, the cylindrical door was not just open, it was on the floor, hinges broken, the rounded surface dented and ripped open to the point that Garrett wouldn't have recognised it as a door if it had been anywhere but near the doorway.

Garrett and Fenris exchanged a frown, the later gripping his blade just a little bit tighter. Garrett arched an eyebrow, nodding towards the opening. _More demons_? The elf grimaced, nodded, and let Garrett move a step ahead, the human covering them both with his shield as the two warriors looked left and right while they advanced closer and closer to the new room.

The place opening up before them was round, large and – as everything else in the palace – completely bereft of furniture.

Except for two high chairs at the far end of the room, seemly chiselled out of the same white stone as the floor, all a single piece of stone. Like two pieces of jagged cliffs, not quite breaking the surface of the water as they reached up towards the sky. _Thrones, they have to be_.

Inching his way into the room, the rest of the group fanning out behind him, Garrett noticed the closed door to the left of the room...and then fixed his gaze on the two figures seated on the thrones at the far end of the room.

They were dead, and had obviously been so for a long time. _But given recent events, who'll take any chances_? Garrett motioned to Fenris, and they both picked a figure each, Garrett approaching the man seated on the slightly bigger throne. Both were dwarves, and probably royalty, given the fancy cut of the threadbare clothes still stuck to their bony figures. The one Fenris was approaching was wearing a dress still in a faded blue while Garrett's target wore some kind of black coat...yet despite their royal seating, neither wore a crown. _Did the demons take them_? _I_..._it was like they defended the gold_... Both corpses looked partly mummified, their browned and dried skin clinging to bones and the odd cord of tough ligament...and both had had their throats slit, crusted blood still clinging to the skin underneath the clean cuts.

Garrett cocked his head to the side at the sight. _Suicide_? _As the demons tried to enter the last __chamber, the king and queen, their city dying_..._killed themselves_? _Or did someone betray them_? Garrett tried to imagine what it would be like, to be trapped, horrified of your entire nation being slaughtered as you yourself faced death...and shuddered. _We need to get out, we __must__ get out_!

With a sigh and a chuckle, the dead dwarven king before him rose to its feet, a whisper resounding in Garrett's head. _You do, do you_...?

For a moment, Garrett stood frozen to the spot...and that was all that the corpse needed as with surprising grace it jumped to its right, further away from the more reactive Fenris who with a curse cleaved the throne the undead had been sitting on. Then, with another curse, the elf slashed apart the female corpse still on its throne before turning to face the undead king. Garrett, next to him, now stood ready to fight.

Only to freeze a second time as the skeleton placatingly raised its hands in front of it, dry lips curling in what Garrett assumed to be a smile, though it more resembled a grin on the dead man. The voice fitted ill with the skeleton. It was soft, vibrant with life...and a _woman's_? "Be at ease, warriors, I mean no harm."

It took a moment for the words to sink in...making Garrett hesitate...and then he remembered his father's lessons on the words of demons and advanced with a growl.

Again, the demon leapt backwards, dry bones moving with a dancer's grace even as the entire group advanced on it, weapons ready. "Do you not wish to hear my offer? I thought you said you wanted to get out...?" A soft chuckle followed the question.

_Anger_...Garrett liked to think he was a calm man, but to hear a demon _taunt_ him...he advanced even further with a snarl, raising his sword...

"WAIT!" Merrill's voice was shrill as she raised it in a shout, making Garrett stop despite every inch of him screaming to attack. Turning his head, he found himself not the only one looking at Merrill as if she'd lost her mind...except for the glowing Anders and Fenris, who both regarded her with disdain. The elf ignored all though, her big eyes fixed on the skeleton as she slowly lowered her spear. "You...know a way out?"

Garrett couldn't help but growl, his every nerve on edge at the thought of what Merrill was trying to do. "It knows that because it read my mind!"

"I'm sorry, mind or words...the difference is hard to make out for the likes of me..." The demon replied, sounding like it was actually remorseful with a bow of its head. Garrett glowered back, father's lesson all too vivid in his head. "_Do not trust the words of demons, children, thos_e _intelligent enough to speak are intelligent enough to __lie__, and a demon never has __your__ needs in mind, only their own_." Again, the demon smiled, though softer this time, carefully. "I merely sensed your need, your desire...and my kind thrives on full-filling such needs..."

"_Lies_!" Anders exploded, his voice dark and foreboding, an ethereal echo to his words as his body glowed blue. "Spawn of desire, I name you mistress of trickery! Your existence in this world is unnatural and befouls it!"

This time, the demon's smile was wide and taunting as it drew away from the glowing mage. "Ah, Justice, always so high-minded...yet I see you possess a barely living corpse yourself, perhaps you ought to rename yourself spirit of hypocrisy?"

For a moment, the glow covering Anders' scars flickered, the man's eyes his own as with a grimace he took a step back. Then he took a step forward, once more glowing as he pointed an accusing finger at the undead beast...only for his hand to be pushed down by Merrill as the smaller mage kept her eyes fixed on the demon, stance tense and wary, yet attentive. "You are that, then? A demon of desire? Drawn to our desire to escape?"

"Well...in a sense, I've been here for a long time before your arrival, even I can sense that." The demon chuckled, a soft, sultry sound, completely in conflict with the corpse they were watching cackling. "I came here to..." The skeleton's head twisted, looking about, as if seeing past the walls of the palace, to the rest of the city. "..._feed_." Garrett shuddered at the hungry sound of the last word.

He couldn't stop himself though, despite his father's lessons, the words were blurted out. "You know what happened here."

"Yes...I know you desire the knowledge..." The demon turned to look at him, head cocked to the side...and Garrett shivered as its gaze bore right through him...yet the smile aimed at him was almost _friendly_. "So I will tell you."

"Do not listen, it means to trick us." Fenris growled, the elf balancing on the balls of his feet, ready to strike at any moment.

"Trick? When you could make such good _allies_? I need you as much as you need me." The demon gave voice to another seductive chuckle, then shrugged. "Long ago, I came here to feed on these demons, lingering in this cave. They are demons of hunger, or more specifically _greed_...a simple emotion, certainly, but greed is a form of desire, so their desire to fulfil their endless greed was a bland, but constant source of nourishment. It is from them I learnt of what happened, piecing across the story across centuries. If you wish to know, just..._ask_."

Even before he saw Bethany shake her head in fear, Garrett ground his teeth shut, refusing to rise to the bait. Merrill, however, didn't even hesitate, making Garrett grit his teeth even harder. "What happened then?" _Merrill_...!

"Greed happened, greed and a poor understanding of spirits of the Fade." The skeleton looked down at the broken remains of its 'queen' with a shake of its head. "These dwarves were rich beyond compare, rich and powerful, trading with the great Tevinter Imperium at the height of its power as equals." The skull of the corpse grinned, a grin rhyming badly with the feminine voice speaking. "However, their greed for more clouded their vision...they brought in Tevinter mages, young acolytes, to handle the dead of the lower classes. They imbued these corpses with magic, forcing small and stupid demons of greed into the bodies. Driven by the greed still lingering in these bodies, as well as that of their masters, these creatures began to mine. Tireless, swift, and after a few generations, growing beyond the numbers of living miners, these creatures were a great boon for the city...for a time." There was no mistaking the grin now, one of amusement. "But you see...spirits of greed are such _simple_ creatures...they don't understand how the world works, or the value of a long term meal over a single _feast_."

Garrett blinked, confused...yet with a foreboding pit in his stomach.

"Over time, they realised that the greed they so hungered for _didn't_ reside in the gold they were mining...but in the dwarves they were mining it _for_." The soft chuckle was one of wry amusement. "So...they started to mine the _dwarves_."

"Maker's breath..." Bethany whimpered, hands over her mouth even as Anders and Fenris both growled in anger. Merrill, on the other hand, was just shaking her head, looking sad. As was Varric, the dwarf glancing back, thoughts no doubt on his brother.

"Of course, they swiftly ran out of dwarves..." The demon shrugged. "...so they mined the gold again, trying to satisfy themselves with what little greed was still lingering in their corpses...until they, still trapped in these bodies, simply laid down, without enough energy to drive themselves forward." A pause, the demon regarding them. "Seems you people gave them some new motivation though, however brief it'll be..."

"That's...horrible..." Merrill whimpered, then she shook her head, looking troubled as she eyed the demon. "...and you've been here for long too? You can't be getting much food now either, and you're as trapped as they are, in this corpse..."

_Is she_..._is she feeling sympathy for the creature_!? Garrett couldn't help but glare at Merrill...she shrunk back under his gaze, but then straightened, eyes on the demon. A demon nodding. "Exactly, there's no point in me staying, which is why I need _your_ help, as much as you need _mine_."

"I don't _trust_ you." Garrett snapped, tiring with the charade as he gestured at Anders and Fenris in turns. "Neither do _they_." Then Varric, the growling Maric and the pale Bethany. "Or _them_." He scowled at the creature before him. "You say we need you, yet it seems to me _you're_ the one needing _us_, or else I'd doubt you'd even speak to us."

"Oh come now...Hawke, is it?" The demon purred the words, words making a cold shiver run down Garrett's spine as the demon regarded him. _How_..._it's_ _in_ _my_ _head_! He gripped his sword tighter, taking a step closer...and the demon raised a hand, speaking swiftly. "Merrill will surely vouch for me."

"You...I thought you sounded familiar..." Merrill was blinking furiously even as the rest of the group stared at her and the demon in confusion. "...b-but how can that be? You're trapped in the Eluvian..." _There's a demon trapped in the mirror you brought_? Garrett put his head in his free hand with a sigh. _Why am I not surprised_...? _Maker, you_..._you make it hard to view you as intelligent at times_! "...Dh-Dhavine...?"

"The same, at your service." The demon made an elegant curtsy, something that looked obscene on the bony remains that was its body. "And yes, I'm still trapped in the Eluvian...or at least _most_ of me is...but I'm not truly corporeal, am I? Being limited to one place at any time sounds _soooo_ dull..." The demon purred, apparently amused at the way the others exchanged puzzled glances. "Yet now this part of me is trapped in _another_ prison...one I can't use to its full potential while in this cave...so could some chivalrous gentleman please help a lady in need...?"

Fenris gave voice to a chuckle, as amused as it was hostile. "The thing seems to think it's a woman and not a male corpse...and that we'd be stupid enough to listen to it."

"Aww...that hurts my _feelings_..." There was a pout in the demon's voice, a teasing pout that made Garrett grimace in disgust. "Besides, you want a way out, and I can give it to you...I can give you what you _desire_...don't you understand...?"

For a moment, Garrett hesitated, his guilty eyes drawn to the pale Bethany...who was staring at the demon with a weary look on her face while softly coughing.

And that was all Merrill needed, the elf taking a step closer, voice sure in itself. "We should listen to it, we have nothing to fear as long as we give it what it wants and stay careful. We feed it by getting what we want, and it helps us..." 

"Exactly, exactly..." Dhavine murmured, the demon nodding ever so softly.

"_Do not trust the demon, they will offer you something you want, but their offer is hollow_. _Either they offer what you already have, or a pale reflection that is not truly what you wanted_." Father's words rang in Garrett's ears while he bit his lower lip, tortured as to what to do. Merrill's words stood in stark contrast to those lessons, promising what he wanted above all else. "So we give Dhavine what it wants, freedom...and we ourselves become free, it's fair, isn't it?"

_I_..._Maker, Bethany,_ _I_..._I_..._I_ _don't_ _know_ _what_ _to_ _do_. Garrett clenched his hands tight and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to think, well aware that his decision might well leave all of them dead. _And certainly Bethany_...

"You'd let this thing go free?" Anders', or perhaps it was Justice, growled. "This base creature is giving empty promises of escape and you believe it?"

"Empty promises?" The demon echoed, a smirk in its voice, making Garrett open his eyes and glare at it. "Not at all...beyond this door, if you proceed straight ahead for an hour...you'll find the treasury." _Huh_? The demon grinned at him...and again, Garrett felt like he was transparent under its gaze. "Oh yes, the _treasury_, the _finest_ items these dwarves created, too fine to decorate their walls with...you can imagine the worth of such things, I'm sure?" Garrett felt his fingers itching, their objective, safety and wealth, suddenly within reach again. _Tempting, Maker, so tempting_..._damn_ _you_! "There's also an exit there, a back door, as you humans call it..." The demon grinned at him, sensing his hesitation. "...but how to get it open? Well _I_ know how...get me there, and I'll open the path for us all...we can part ways, free, and you oh so wealthy..."

_Damn you_! Garrett opened his mouth to reply, but to his surprise, _Varric_ was swifter. The dwarf was eyeing the demon with a tired and grim look...but also with an intellect Garrett was well aware of. "That sounds too easy. If you can open it, why haven't you gone yourself already?"

"Ah, an _excellent_ question..." If the demon was anything but delighted at the question putting its sincerity in doubt, it didn't show it. "Well...a treasury is of course not unguarded-"

"Of course not." Varric dryly interrupted, triggering a small titter from Bethany that turned into a wheeze and a cough.

Was it just Garrett, or was there a flicker of purple energy in the sockets of the skeleton before him at Varric's interruption? Its words were gentle and friendly though. "Yes, of course not...the guardian has stood there for centuries, so I'm sure it's quite weakened compared to what it once was...but as you can understand, I don't feel quite up to the task of fighting it in my current state..."

Garrett exchanged a glance with Varric, then took a step forward, eyes narrowed at the demon. "So let me get this straight, the guardian you almost _neglected_ to mention needs to be beaten, at which point you _promise_ to help us escape?" He snorted. "Seems like you want us to do your work for us and then simply open a door in return, something we're quite capable of doing _ourselves_."

"Now, now, you want your freedom, don't you?" The demon smiled back, a frightening grinning skull speaking with a voice like velvet brushing your skin. "Without my help, you won't be able to leave this place, without my help you and _all_ you care about...will die." The grin still remained as the demon glanced over at Bethany.

_You_..._dare_!? Garrett glared at the demon, stuck between his want for certain escape and his distrust of the creature...not to mention a slowly growing _personal_ hatred of the demon before him. _You invade my mind, use my feelings against me, and speak of working together_!? The demon just smiled back, confident as Garrett grew more and more frustrated. _I_..._I_..._wait_..._a dwarven door will surely not be opened by magic, so_..._could_..._could_ _it_ _be_...? The thought entering Garrett's mind made him blink, afraid yet unable to let it go._ Could I_..._could I risk it_? _But what if I'm wrong_? _Bethany_..._poor_ _Bethany_..._I_..._but_ _father_ _had to be right, and_..._Maker_..._I_ _can't_..._can_ _I_?

"Garrett..." Looking down, Garrett found Merrill gripping his forearm, smiling reassuringly. "It'll be okay, I promise...trust me."

_I'm_... Garrett looked to the demon, then back to Merrill, torn. _I_..._I think I do trust you_... He didn't look back as he barked out a single word._ But not in this_. "Fenris!"

"_Wait_!" Dhavine cried out even as Fenris rushed forth with inhuman speed, his sword loudly cleaving the air, then the undead's neck, sending its head tumbling along the floor while the now truly dead body dropped like a puppet with its strings cut.

Merrill's hands pulled away from Garrett's arm and shot up to her mouth, covering it as her eyes widened in shock, as if Fenris had just killed a real person, rather than the stolen body of a long dead man.

Garrett, a thick lump in his throat, fear gripping his heart, moved away from her, shot Bethany a terrified look and turned to march over to Fenris and his slain foe. The elf was looking down at the corpse with a look of grim satisfaction, and even shot Garrett an approving nod as he respectfully stepped aside, letting Garrett crouch down next to the corpse. _Please, please let me be righ_t... Reaching down, Garrett pulled open the corpse's cloak, making Bethany groan in disgust. _Please_..._please_... He dug, pulling a ripped and soiled tunic to the side...

And found his head drop to his chest as he shuddered, nearly sobbing.

_Thank the Maker_...

Rising to his feet, Garrett found himself blinking away a tear of relief as he held up his prize with a smile. In the poor light offered by the runes, the golden key in a rusted chain glimmered like fire...and the others smiled at the sight, visibly relieved as well as with the feeling of hope, of a _goal_. Only Merrill looked less than happy, the elf visibly pouting at him, looking down at the corpse at his feet and the key in his hand...and the pout turned into a somewhat miffed glare. He opted to shrug back, not about to rub him being right in her face after her having rescued him from the Darkspawn, yet neither about to apologise for getting rid of a demon. _Or for securing our freedom without someone at our back, ready to betray us_...

Garrett's satisfaction was muddled by Dhavine's words, however.

_Now, to deal with that guardian_...

8

8

8

"_That_...is hardly fair." Anders' quip would have been more amusing, had Garrett not felt all the blood leave his face at the sight of what was before them.

They had walked for quite a while to reach the treasury. The fine palace walls slowly making way for darker shades, telling them they were entering quarters not often visited by the royalty, quarters lined with metal pipes from which steam now and again puffed out, whatever machinery the water within was powering still active, apparently. Garrett had postulated that they might be used to power the runes in some manner, or perhaps a forge, but no one else had had the energy to reply, and Merrill had still been _unwilling_ to reply, or so her pout had told him.

Finally, however, they had found the treasury. A round and wide chamber they had to climb down via a ladder...a ladder Garrett couldn't help but notice was being retracted behind them...

The walls of the treasury were nothing but metal pipes that hissed and puffed out steam now and again, as if the treasury doubled as some kind of furnace...the heat certainly suggested as such. Yet all they had seen was the treasure itself. Chest upon chest lined the wall, big ones, bigger than a _cart_...and each lay open, putting on display a wealth of uncountable magnitude. There was not a _pebble_ of gold in them...only diamonds, emeralds, amethysts, rubies and sapphires. It was a mind-boggling wealth of precious stones where many had somehow been forged together, creating crowns, bowls, plates and daggers of a mixture of stones..some glittering with all the colours of the rainbow in the dim light of the runes above.

Garrett had also noticed the round door at the far end, a door with a single, simple, lock at its centre.

A door now blocked as a hole in the floor was sealed by a platform silently sliding up from the darkness, atop which the guardian stood.

_The demon wanted us to take on __that_!?

Garrett had read of golems, even seen a picture...but _nothing_ he had read could prepare him for what he now saw. Of polished black steel, the golem rose as high as two people. Hands the size of battery-rams closing into fists. Its chest heaving, as if it was alive and breathing...and with each exhale, an orange fire within the gaping maw in its visored head glowed nearly white. In each gap of the many plates of solid steel that formed the golem, more orange glow escaped, as if it was nothing but black steel encasing a warrior of fire.

Over its visored maw, the two glowing embers that were its eyes dully regarded the group.

Keeping his eyes on the golemn, Garrett managed to whisper back to Bodahn and Sandal. "Stay back and don't move a muscle..." There was a scuffle as Bodahn pushed Sandal towards a corner, hiding behind one of the gigantic chests. "Errr..." Garrett swallowed before speaking to the third dwarf in the group. "...Varric? You're the talker..."

A terrified chuckle escaped the other man, yet despite that, he took a hesitant step forward and raised his hand, making the golem fix its gaze on him. "Ummm..." Varric forced an uneasy smile. "...hi?"

With a roar that shook the chamber, the golem charged.

"Scatter!" Garrett threw himself to the side, the others doing the same, more on instinct than due to his order as the massive creature of steel and fire thundered at them.

Grinding to a halt before it would crash into the wall, the golem whirled about, ignoring the crossbow bolt bouncing off its head as Varric with a curse back-pedalled, fumbling with Bianca. "I'd like some ideas here!"

_It's steel and fire, fire needs_... "Mages! I want ice on that thing!" Garrett, trying to advance, quickly found himself jumping back as the guardian smashed a fist into the ground before him, cracking the stone floor...and sending him stumbling another two steps as the ground shook with the force of the impact. A moment later, two streams of pale blue light caught the massive golem, one across the right shoulder, the other the left knee, both leaving the armour temporarily blue as the cold worked into the metal. "Fenris!"

With a roar, the elf surged on...and whatever Garrett thought of the man, it was impressive to see him dodge a sweeping fist, roll onto his feet and slash at the frosted metal the golem's knee.

It was less impressive to see the slash chip off the tiniest sliver of metal before the elf was sent flying by the golem's foot though.

With a crack and a groan, Fenris crashed into a chest full of sapphires, his limp form nearly disappearing in the sea of precious stones.

"Anders, heal him as best you can!" Garrett, feeling the situation near to slipping out of his control, decided to mimic Aveline as he advanced on the golem's flank and crashed his sword against his shield. "Here! Face me!" The golem turned towards him, a growl that made the fire in its mouth flicker escaping it as it advanced. "Merrill!"

The bolt of lightening struck the creature's back, making it howl as arcs of energy shot through its body, freezing it still for just a moment. Garrett, not wasting the opportunity, ran forward, down between its feet and slashed at the inside of its left knee. His strike bent a plate at the joint...and the gout of white-hot fire shooting from the 'wound' sent him stumbling on, purple and white dots dancing before his vision. _Maker, my eyes_... Groaning, he tried to rub them with the hand holding his shield, terrified that his lack of vision would allow the golem to blindside him.

A bark made him turn though, blurry vision widening at the sight of Maric drawing the golem away, the Mabari's claws uselessly raking the golem's ankles before darting away, skilfully avoiding the large construct's swings, swings made somewhat sluggish by the distraction caused by Varric's bolts again and again bouncing off the golem's head.

A growl...and the golem turned its gaze away from the far too agile hound and to a more easy target...Anders kneeling by a weakly struggling Fenris, desperately healing the elf's mangled body.

With new purpose, the golem marched on, heedless of the claws scratching at its ankles or the thin vines that managed to push through the gaps in the stones under its feet to grab at them...neither would stop or distract the machine.

Instead, Bethany drew up in front of it. "Bethany, _no_!" Garrett's eyes widened in horror, barely aware that he'd screamed the words.

The pale woman ignored him though, staff in both hands as she levelled it at the golem as if it was a spear, the entire staff glowing white as the mage narrowed her eyes...and with a grunt, lunged forward.

The stream of white energy was so pure, it _glowed_, so strong, it made the golem _stagger __backwards...and then it roared as the stream stuck its head, making the flames within its mouth flicker before it could put a hand in front of its head and resume its advance._

Slowly, ever so slowly, it moved to close the distance. Each step a struggle, it looked like a man walking against a storm while shielding his face...and Bethany kept pouring in more and more icy energy, making ice cover its arm, then chest, frosted crystals hanging from it as every joint in its body struggled to move it forward.

Yet it kept closing the distance.

_No_!

Running, screaming, Garrett launched himself forward. Over his head, a fist of magically contained stones hurtled forward, striking the golem's right shoulder even as Garrett leapt off the ground.

The impact from the stones made the golem spin, its burning eyes staring into Garrett's as he landed atop its ice-covered chest. His left hand shooting forth, Garrett grabbed a hold of the 'collar' to the golem's breastplate, his right hand swinging a brutal slash at the left side of its head.

A clang as sword met head, and the golem staggered to its right, and away from Bethany.

A reverse of Garrett's swing, striking the creature across the forehead, and it staggered backwards, _further_ away while roaring in anger at him.

Garrett roared back, smashing his pommel between its eyes, denting the metal and driving it yet another step back. "Get away!"

He raised his sword again...and the golem grabbed it by the blade.

_Huh_?

Too surprised to release his grip on the weapon, Garrett found himself pulled off and hurled through the air, the world spinning around him...and then coming to an abrupt halt as he slammed into something surprisingly soft.

Turning his head, he found Maric lying under him, the hound whimpering in pain, but smiling at him like only a dog could. _Thanks_..._you okay_? Garrett was too dizzy to talk, yet the dog barked an affirmative. _Okay then_. Garrett, grunting, rose to his feet, holding up a sword whose edge had now been rendered completely dull by the golem's grip. _I can still bash its head in with it_... Growling, Garrett took a careful step forward while trying to make sense of the situation before him.

Bethany was on her knees, and slowly dropping onto her left hand as her right clutched at her chest, her coughing echoing across the chamber, the powerful spell no doubt having drained her completely.

She was _alive_ though...as was Fenris, the elf now on his feet, and circling the golem warily, a golem now missing a finger from its left hand, the still frozen digit laying next to Anders as the exhausted-looking mage tried to cast some spell on Bethany, probably to get her back up and fighting. Merrill and Varric were being more hands-on, the two kneeling by the woman and trying to help her to her feet, the elf's spear levelled at the golem, the tip crackling with energy while Varric struggled to keep Bianca aimed at the thing with only one hand.

Garrett, running again, felt nothing but frustration as Fenris' blade bounced off the golem's chest while its gauntlet deflected Merrill's lightning bolt and sent it into a wall with a hiss of released steam.

_Steam_... Garrett ground to a halt. ..._from_ _water_.

Watching as another weak blast of lightning and white ice did no harm to it while Fenris darted around the golem, futively trying to actually harm it...Garrett found himself moving to the left, eyes on the golem and its roaring maw. "Everyone! Retreat! Get back!" He felt several surprised looks on him, but his eyes were on the golem even as the group moved to obey as best they could. At the same time, Garrett slammed his sword into his shield again. "Hey! Over here!" The golem turned its glowing eyes to him. "Remember me!?"

A roar, and the construct marched at him, eyes glowing orange.

"Come on!" Garret felt his heart shake with fear even as he jumped onto a chest by the wall of the treasury. "Is this what you want to protect!?" He reached down and picked up a tiara of blue sapphires. The golem's eyes instantly began to glow white as its steps widened. "Then protect it!" Garrett jumped upon the open lid of the chest, rising him high above the ground...and hurled the tiara against the wall, shattering the priceless item.

A roar, and the golem's march turned into a charge, fist hurtling forth...and hitting nothing but the wall as Garrett went limp, letting himself fall down and into the chest of precious stones.

The creature glared down at him, maw glowing white as with a roar it pulled its fist free...and then cried out, a cry nearly lost in the hiss of extinguishing flames as the steam released from the pipes it had smashed poured right into its face. "Anders! Ice!"

The magic struck the golem's face like a spear, twisting it sideways even as the steam stuck to its face was frozen solid, sealing its head in a mask of ice.

"Merrill! Stone!" The fist of stone slammed into the back of the golem's head like a the fist of the Maker himself, driving the golem to its knees as its head twisted forward, the plates covering its head coming askew under the remaining ice as that in the back of its head was shattered along with several pieces of crumpled metal.

A roar, and Garrett launched himself from the chest, the dulled blade still managing to hack into the ice stuck to the golem's face as he drew back his shield and furiously began hacking into it, denting and breaking metal with each furious strike.

Then Fenris was standing atop the golem's shoulders, looking down at Garrett with an arched eyebrow as he raised his sword. A sword he now held by the blade, with the crossguard and pommel at the end, it was now seemingly a hammer in the elf's hands. _Blunt, hard_. Grinning back, Garrett nodded.

With a grunt, Fenris swung...and then Garrett fell to the ground, the golem's head in his lap as the creature itself crashed to the floor.

A ragged cheer rose from the group, Varric's voice rising over the din. "So what's that, Fenris, your _third_ decapitation today?"

"Not a personal record, but I judge it a good day's work, none the less." Fenris drily replied, though with just a hint of humour somewhere underneath.

Garrett didn't care however, he had already thrown aside the golem's head and rushed to Bethany's side, shoulders slumping with relief as she offered him a reassuring smile.

For a moment he just stood there.

Scenario upon scenario of her dying sweeping through his mind. Of her being ripped apart by genlocks, cut down by demons, crushed by a golem's fist or possessed by a demon as she cast a spell beyond her limit.

He couldn't quite grasp that it was over.

Then, unable to help himself – the relief flooding him overpowering_ –_ he gripped her by the shoulders and kissed her forehead before wrapping his arms around her as tightly as he dared.

Somewhere in the distance, he could hear Merrill give voice to an 'awww'...but Garrett didn't care as he pressed his face into Bethany's neck, breath hitching at the way she burned with fever. _So close, that spell you cast_..._you_ _nearly_..._you_ _nearly_... "I thought...Maker, sister..."

"B-brother...?" Bethany squirmed as much as his grip would allow, voice a breathless gasp. "...you're starting to embarrass me..."

Garrett only gripped her tighter. "I don't care."

_You're safe now_.

8

8

8

_Thank you to Abydos Jackson for being such a stubborn fool._


	37. Chapter 37

"A good hunt, wouldn't you say?" Garrett managed a smile as he walked, a carcass on his shoulder.

They'd left the Thaig behind and entered a dark pit of caves leading off in a myriad of directions, and while reduced to guessing the way to go to find the exit, Garrett at least had faith that the worst was behind them. _Out here there's food and water, plus we put what treasure we could into our packs, which will be enough even when split with Varric_..._yes, this is a success_. Garrett wasn't sure how they'd find their way out...but as long as they could keep themselves fed, he could be patient, one tunnel _had_ to lead out...and he was fairly sure he was leading the group in the right direction to find the path they'd taken before.

Of course, the food was rather bland...while nugs were apparently a delicacy if cooked right, the group had been unable to get a hold of them. Merrill, being a Dalish, knew quite a bit about hunting, as did Garrett from his time on the run, and Varric had been of some help with his crossbow...yet between the three of them, they'd still been unable to catch a nug, something which Varric had chuckled at, saying they'd make poor nug-wranglers. _Why call them wranglers_? _Is that a hint to how they hunt them_?

Deepstalkers had proven easier to catch. The animals had poor vision but great hearing, and while being excellent at hiding, were easy to trick into revealing themselves, since they reacted instinctively to the sound of smaller prey nearby. So the trio had devised a method that so far had worked wonders. Merrill, being the smallest of them, was to advance on her own into areas that Garrett deemed likely to contain deepstalkers, considering their behaviour and prefered hunting grounds. She limped a bit to make herself seem like an injured animal while the other two waited up high. When the deepstalkers struck, she'd catch several with her vines as Garrett charged down from his hiding place to scare off the rest of the pack with the sound of his approach while Varric killed a few of the caught ones with his crossbow.

It had worked the first time, and now, a second time.

Sadly, no matter how you cooked it, deepstalker meat had the texture of glue while tasting like overcooked fish, but at least it was filling. Between it and the water filling some of the caverns, Garrett felt their situation was improving.

They'd now been forced to rest for a bit longer than normal over by one such underground lake, which was a bit worrying, but nothing a good meal and some sleep couldn't cure. Garrett acknowledged that they all needed to rest up a bit anyway, and Bethany being sick was a good excuse to set up camp. Her cough had gotten worse, so obviously Garrett had pushed her body too much, especially after that last spell she'd cast...so she needed rest and some food in her, that was all. Garrett had already resolved to give her his portion of their catch as well. Between it and copious drinks from the lake he was _sure_ she'd be right as rain in no time. _Besides, with us camped, Anders can finally have a proper look at her, heck, she might be up and running by the time we get back_!

Behind Garrett, the silence had stretched a bit too long, making him shoot a smile back to make sure the other two were paying attention. "Guys?"

Merrill's looked somewhat hesitant, and her answer lacked her usual cheerfulness as she offered a small smile. "Yes, a good hunt...Andruil will be pleased."

"As will I, once I'm eating." Varric grunted, shifting under the weight of the fat deepstalker in his arms. "Glad we found these things, I'd prefer using the moss to _cook_ them over eating the moss itself..." The man grimaced. "...at least by a small margin. Maker, you'd think if you become what you eat, the deepstalkers should be delicious..."

Garrett chuckled at that, pleased to see that Varric, while not fully his usual self, was clearly recovering from his loss of Bartrand. _We might have lost him and the rest of the expedition, but our_..._friends_..._made_ _it_. Garrett tasted the word, he didn't feel it applied to Fenris, Bodahn and Sandal...hell, not even Merrill or Anders...yet the _idea_ that it could be applied to them, _all_ of them even...he wasn't as reluctant to consider it. And after they escaped the Thaig and were rich...well Garrett wasn't against continuing his cooperation with Varric on more trusted terms. "We only need to be fed, Varric. You can have your fancier meals when we're out of here. Now, let's bring this meat in and we'll see if we can't get Bethany up and moving again, the sooner we do that, the sooner we can leave."

Varric and Merrill exchanged a glance, and Garrett looked away from them, frowning and widening his steps even as Varric coughed. "Yes, of course, we'll do that."

Grunting under the weight of his catch, Garrett rounded the last corner leading to the cavern they'd put up camp in, nerves curling in his stomach even as his face split into a smile. "Food, coming in!" In a dark corner, Fenris detached from the wall, the sentry wisely had his sword in hand as his calm eyes approvingly spied the two deepstalkers the hunters were bringing in.

Slowing his steps, Garrett let his gaze travel over the cave, as always amazed that such beauty could exist in an otherwise grim area...a testament to how tough life was to eradicate, even for the darkspawn that had ravaged the Deep Roads more than anything else.

The lake took up the far half of the modest-sized cave – for the deep roads, anyhow – and its water had a greenish hue due to the plants growing at the bottom of it, plants giving off a turquoise light that constantly created a diorama of green lines against a blue backdrop on the far wall. Though there was some moss on the ground as well, the light it had cast was pale white and was now largely gone as the camped group used it as a replacement for firewood. Surprisingly that was working well, despite the fact that Garrett had expected it to only work as kindling.

They had no tents, and only a pair of blankets between them, blankets which Garrett could see were still wrapped around Bethany as she lay by the edge of the lake...the sight making Garrett frown in disappointment. _Anders hasn't gotten her on her feet yet_? _I thought he was supposed to be a great healer_? At least Bodahn was kneeling by her, pulling up a rag from the lake and squeezing out most of the water before putting it over her brow...his son stood by her feet, a sad look on his face. The sight made Garrett smile at least. _Good men, both of them_.

The smile faded as he spotted Anders, the mage approaching him somewhat hesitantly, a rag in his hands, a rag...stained with _blood_?!

Garrett dropped the deepstalker and took a quick step towards Anders before stopping himself, his posture suddenly tense, gaze hard and fixed on Anders as he nodded at the towel. "What's that?"

The mage glanced down at the towel, then shrugged. "You told me to examine her thoroughly..." The casualness of the reply was ruined by the concerned frown slowly appearing on his face. "I...I had to be _sure_.."

It was like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over him.

Garrett moved to speak, lips clumsy and mouth dry.

"Sure of what...?"

Anders, his broken face splitting into a grimace, hesitated before speaking. "Well, Bethany's sick..."

"I _know_ that already! But-"

"...with the blight."

Garrett took a step back.

Then another one.

A horrible vision of Aveline's husband Wesley flitted before his image, only it wasn't Wesley any more with the white skin and black veins, it was _Bethany_...

He swallowed.

Then he took a third step backwards, hands closing into fists as something within him began to shake. "You...you lie."

"Wish I was." Anders lowered his head. "She's...been sick for a while, I'm amazed she's lasted this long." _L-lasted_...? Garrett reached out, finding a wall to grip a hold of as his knees nearly gave up. "It's at the advanced stages..." Anders swallowed, the mage turning his gaze away from whatever he saw on Garrett's face. "I...I'm sorry."

"Make her better." Garrett struggled to straighten, eyes fixed on the mage, watching as his shoulders slumped at the order with a mixture of horror and anger. "Didn't you hear me? _Make her better_."

"I..." Anders looked up, sadness in his eyes, sadness and frustration. "...I _can't_."

Suddenly Garrett was inches from the man's face without even remembering moving, his hands gripping the front of the man's robes, hoisting him up until the mage was standing on his toes. "That's _not_ an answer!"

Behind him, he heard someone whimper as Varric started to mutter. "Garrett..."

Garrett glared into Anders' sad eyes, boring his gaze into the mage, shrugging aside a hand on his shoulder as his grip on the robes tightened. "You are a _Warden_! You are a _renowned_ healer! You have a bloody spirit in your body that assembled you from _scraps_!" He shook the man, finally lifting him straight off the ground. "_Don't_ tell me you can't!" Another hand appeared on his shoulder, and Garrett shrugged it off as well. "Don't you _dare_ lie to me like that!"

"Justice can't help." Anders gasped. "It doesn't...work like that..." He looked down at Garrett, sympathy in his eyes. "I'm not lying to you." 

"But...you're a healer!" Garrett put Anders back down on the floor, but didn't let go of his robes, his breathing erratic as he stared at the man, his legs shaking even as he kept glaring at the man. "It's what you _do_!" 

Anders sighed, shaking his head. "Some things can never be healed..."

Slowly, Garrett released his hold on the man's robes, his lips trembling even as kept the hands on the man's collar, suddenly afraid the man would run away if Garrett fully let him go. "I...I...but..." He swallowed, eyes hurting from being open too long even as he looked down, staring at the ground between them, brain furiously struggling with the new information, thinking. "...but you are still..." _I don't want that, I don't_..._but_ _Maker_, _I_..._Maker, please, make her forgive me_... "...you're still a _Warden_..."

"Garrett, don't..."

Looking up, Garrett stared pleadingly at Anders as the man turned his gaze away with a pained look on his face. "At O-Ostagar...the Wardens took the blighted soldiers...I _saw_ it...some became Wardens, I _know_ it." Anders was shaking his head, but Garrett bore his fingers into the man's robes, sure, gripping hold of hope as much as the man. "Y-you could make her one of them, I _know_ you can!" Anders shook his head even more, making Garrett blink furiously as his eyes began to burn. "For Maker's sake, I don't care what you feel about them, but _please_, do it!"

"I...can't..." Anders closed his eyes and swallowed. "I...don't have all the ingredients to make her a Warden, and there is no way to get them in time." _Time_? _Time_ _before she_..._Andraste_, _you_..._you wouldn't let the Maker take her_..._would_ _you_...? _Please, I've never asked for __anything_... Looking back to Garrett, Anders opened his eyes, sad gaze meeting Garrett's. "I've stretched out my senses as far as I could, trying to find other Wardens to help...but...but they're too far away even if they knew of our plight and moved to meet us...I _tried_, Garrett, I really tried..."

_TRIED_!? Garrett's grip on Anders' robe tightened even as his right fist pulled back, making the mage wince and turn his head.

And then Garrett was on his knees as they gave in, so suddenly the impact drew the air out of his lungs. Head downcast, the hand on Anders' robes was now gripping a boot as the fist he'd pulled back now pressed against his chest, vainly trying to stem the fiery pain exploding from it. He knew Anders was before him, that there were others around him...yet they seemed so distant, like shadows on the walls, nothing more.

"_P-please_..." The word was nothing but a croak, struggling through the vice around his throat. "...I'll pay you my entire share..._everything_...I'll..._anything_...anything you ask..."

A sigh, and a hand that had to be Anders fell on his shoulder. "I'm...sorry." The hand left, as did the man, his feet wearily stepping away, towards the exit of the cave. "I would...hurry if I were you, I've done all I can."

Garrett remained where he was, frozen to the ground._ B-but this_..._this shouldn't happen_..._I planned everything_..._I_..._I was supposed to keep her safe by bringing her here_..._I_ _was_..._I was doing the only logical thing_... He looked up, at Bethany still in her blankets, coughing feebly...yet he barely saw her, everything blurry and distant._ We escaped the Thaig, we got out, I_..._we were safe_..._it was all going to work out_..._I_..._it was working out_...

Someone touched his shoulder.

Then he was moving, with his knees too weak to walk, he crawled, crossing the distance to Bethany as best his shaking body could as the shadows surrounded him and his sister drew away, leaving an emptiness around them.

He tugged at her neck, pulling up her head until it was resting in his lap, his heart quaking as he looked down at her.

_It_..._it has to be a nightmare_...

Before him, a weak cough escaped Bethany's blue lips, though her eyes remained closed, eyes now deep in their dark sockets, as if someone had given her two black eyes. Her skin was even paler than last time he'd seen her, almost transparent and paper thin, moulded to her skull to the point that she looked almost like the corpses they'd escaped a few days ago. The veins under her skin weren't blue, but were black as pitch, so near the surface that Garrett could almost see the blood sluggishly pump through them. _My sister_... Garrett's right hand moved up, gripping his chin painfully hard, a finger over his lips as he struggled not to whimper. Meanwhile, his left moved to her, brushing a rogue strand of hair from her forehead, the heat rising from her skin nearly scalding. _My_ _beautiful_ _sister_..._no_...

With a moan, Bethany's eyes flickered open.

And Garrett's right hand moved up even further, clamping over his mouth to muffle his cry of horror.

"B-brother..." The colourless eyes looked up at him, nothing but a black pupil looking up at him, trembling slightly as he saw jagged black vines slowly crawl up along the inside of her eyes, like cracks in ice slowly spreading further. "...I...I can barely see you...it's night...?" Her voice was but a whisper, a hiss through trembling lips.

Garrett nodded quickly, too horrified to speak, then forced himself to lower his hand, to choke out a reply. "Y-yes sister...i-it's n-night..."

Slowly, Bethany blinked, her eyes becoming more focused...and her lips curling in a smile. "You lie...we're in the Deep Roads..." Her eyes focused past him, a look of horror slowly appearing on her face. "I...I can hear a heartbeat, not my own...a beat that _calls_..." She blinked, a lone tear trickling down her cheek. "I _hear_ them, brother, so far away..._digging_...th-they're so _many_...they're so...anger and pain, anger and pain..." She managed to focus back on him, eyes betraying her fear. "I-it calls to me...it _wants_ me...d-don't let them _have_ me..." Garrett, shaking, tried to look away, only for her hiss to force him to go still. "_Promise_ me! I...I don't want...Maker, it hurts..." A shudder went through the woman, a trickle of black blood escaping the corner of her lips. "..it _hurts_...do-don't let them...Andr-Andras...save me..."

_I can't_. Garrett swallowed, hopelessness gripping his heart as one hand slid into Bethany's hair, the other shaking as it moved down to stroke her cheek. _I can't_! "S-sister...y-you need to b-be strong for me...I...I need you to get be-better, you hear? C-can you do that for me...?"

The smile she shot him was one of sadness and love in equal measures. "I'm sorry brother...not...this time..."

"I'm sorry." It exploded out of him before he knew it, a pathetic whimper followed by tears of grief and shame. "I sh-should ha-have...I...I...I'm s-so sorry...I n-never...I sh-should have b-been the o-one wh-who...I..."

Words failed him.

_I've failed you_.

Garrett slumped, chin coming to his chest as he squeezed his eyes shut, weeping.

He felt Bethany's gaze on him, felt her stir...and knew she was struggling to touch him, but even such a simple gesture the blight had robbed from them. "Brother...look at me..." Garrett, always unable to refuse her, opened his eyes, a thousand needles in his heart, a fist ripping his guts out, as he watched her struggle to smile at him. "Y-you've protected me since you could _walk_...you've always...Maker..." A groan, her body and face going rigid with pain...and then she was smiling up at him once more. "You've done everything you could, _more_...but sometimes..." The smile turned sad. "...sometimes you can't escape your faith, I know that better than you." She blinked, then winced, the next tear escaping her eye black, the blight not even allowing that to remain pure. "For once...accept that you can't save me..."

"I...I can't..." Garrett shook his head, blinking away the tears that just wouldn't stop coming. "...I _love_ you, dammit!"

"And I love you too..." Bethany gasped, body twitching, eyes unfocused for just a second before looking back at him. "...always my saviour...from bandits, from Templars..." She lit up with a little grin. "...from Carver and his attempts to nail my hair to the wall..." Garrett couldn't help it, he laughed, a fitful little sound echoing across the cave as Bethany's smile turned sad. "I...I need you t-to sa-save me again now, br-brother..."

_No_. Garrett stared at her, completely still, too horrified to _dare_ make sense of her words.

"Re-remember We-Wesley...?" The whisper was but a pained hiss, Bethany's eyes closing as a shudder of pain shot through her. "A-Aveline had to...h-had to...M-Maker..."

Completely cold inside, as if his body was but a vessel, empty of its soul, Garrett shook his head. "No...you c-can't ask me th-that. Anything, b-but not _that_..."

"It _hurts_..." Bethany's whisper was half a whimper, her legs visibly turning and twisting as a shudder ran up her spine. "...so _much_. I can't...I can't bear much more...I...M-Maker...the call...it' so _loud_...I can barely hear you..."

Garrett's hands moved to cradle the back of her head, his head dipping down to her neck as his body shook with sob. "N-no! B-Bethany! Don't...you can't make me do this...I...no, I _won't_!"

Her voice was a gasp in his ear. "_Please_!"A gasp turning into a groan and a whimper. "Hurts..._hurts_ ...it wants me, the call _wants_...don't let it take me, brother, don't let it!" Her body, rigid and twisting in his arms, was suddenly growing colder, _much_ colder. "Pl-please! S-save me...I...I can't bear the...the call...b-brother...t-tell m-mother...tell them...I...so-something b-_better_..." _I_..._no_..._I won't_..._I can't_..._do it yourself_! _Please_! Garrett rocked the twitching body in his arms, panic and horror gripping him as the skin of his sister turned from burning hot into icy cold. "Please! Brother!" Her whisper turned into a panicked hiss, as the body in his arms shuddering in unspeakable agony. "I ca-can't...do-don't make me...please l-let me..." The words petered out all of a sudden, a long sigh escaping his sister. Blue lips brushed his face, the briefest of kisses as the sigh reached its end. "_Thank_ _you_..."

Garrett, sitting there with his face burried in her neck, found himself shaking...shaking and confused...and with a growing sense of horror as he slowly forced himself to raise his head, to look down.

He hadn't been aware of his right arm moving, nor felt his fingers grip the dagger in his belt...or the black blood spraying his hands...yet now he saw his hand holding his dagger...a dagger buried in Bethany's chest.

_Th-that can't be_...

Unable to let go of the dagger, he turned his head, looking back to Bethany.

The woman was staring up at the cave's ceiling, blighted eyes seeing nothing, her body no longer rigid in pain...limp.

Dead.

_Dead_.

Terrified, Garrett swiftly pulled his hands away from the woman...and stared down at them, one clean, the one that had cradled her head as he had so many times before...and the other covered in black blood, _her_ blood.

"_No_!" He lunged forward, hugging Bethany with all his might, holding her as close as humanly possible, knowing he didn't deserve it. "No! No! No!" Rocking them back and forth, he desperately tried to shake life back into her, but nothing happened.

_I killed you_.

"_NO_!"

8

8

8

"We need to keep moving."

Fenris' voice was a growl in the cave...and loud enough to make Merrill wince, worriedly glancing at the nearest other cave where a dim light revealed where Garrett was keeping vigil.

"I hate to agree with you, but yes." Anders muttered, the human busy eating what was left of the last deepstalker. He raised his voice a little as he shrugged. "We've been here for more than a day now, we need to move on or we'll never escape this place."

_By the Dread Wolf, it's like they __want__ him to hear_! Merrill cast another worried glance towards the other cave, then shot the eating pair an annoyed look. Ignoring her, Fenris was nodding at Anders. "Agreed, and when _we_ are in agreement of something, it means it _has_ to be true." Again, the man spoke worryingly loud, and Anders' chuckle of agreement did nothing to help. _Wait, they're not_..._no, no it would be mean to think them that cruel_..._still_..._sounds rude_. _At least Bodahn and Sandal are wise enough to keep quiet_. The two dwarves, were sitting by the water, Sandal busy dipping his feet in it with a smile as Bodahn looked on, doing his best to ignore the others.

Merrill still felt horrible about the slaughter of the expedition, but while she felt a bit queasy with how easily Garrett had left them, she could in hindsight understand that they'd been a lost cause and the man had focused on saving those he could. He might not have grieved much for them...but considering how little people knew one another in Kirkwall, that hardly surprised Merrill by now. But _Bethany_...Anders and Fenris had _both_ known her well...was it so strange to think her own _brother_ might want to take some time to say goodbye? Yes, as a nomad at heart, she knew all of the importance of moving on when travelling...but _some_ decency always needed to be upheld, or they would be nothing but animals.

Fenris, however, apparently disagreed. "The Qunari are right in the way they view the body once a person dies. She's not with us any more, her body is of no consequence, let's move on."_ That's it_. Merrill rose to her feet. "Where are you going, blood mage?"

She looked back at him...and Fenris arched an eyebrow in surprise at the scorn she was unable to conceal. "To say good bye to a friend and support another. I'm sorry, I guess I'm not as heartless as..." She offered the palest of smiles she could at Anders and Fenris both. "...the Qunari."

Fenris and Anders exchanged a surprised look, but before either could form a rebuttal, Merrill had turned her back to them and begun moving towards the other cave.

Though her reluctance soon made her slow, fearing she was intruding or somehow performing sacrilege by approaching Andrastians during their moment of grief.

Yet she couldn't stop moving forward, worrying that doing so would drain her of all courage to approach.

In the dark gloom of the next cavern, the only light came from an oil lamp Bodahn had kept on him, a lamp nearly out of oil if the flickering flame was to be believed. It was a small cave, more a darker part of the larger one than a chamber of its own. It was far longer than it was broad, yet barely enough to fit Garrett, Varric and Maric as they stood side by side.

Varric was the one closest to Merrill, his gaze as he looked at where they'd put Bethany was one of grief, but also regret and guilt. Perhaps feeling he had contributed to her death by helping Garrett with the expedition. _It's easy to find ways to blame yourself if you try hard enough_... As if sensing her thoughts, he turned his head and offered her a pale smile and a nod as he moved to let her take his place as he quietly slipped away towards the others, hands in his pockets and head downcast.

Hesitantly, Merrill moved to take Varric's place, feeling like an intruder as she came to stand on Garrett's right, the silent Maric on the man's left...the Mabari so still he could have passed for a statue of Fen'Harel.

Before them, a mere four feet away, Bethany lay in a natural hollow in the wall, hands over her chest, covering the mortal wound. _Poor Garrett, I know he did the right thing, but having to kill your own sister_..._I wouldn't be strong enough to do something like that_... Though glancing at Garrett, noting his tense posture and how he stared at Bethany as if she wasn't even there...Merrill was unsure if the man actually _was_ strong enough._ He looks like he'll break apart at any moment_... Bethany was still horribly pale and covered in a spiderweb of black veins...yet there was still something peaceful about her, something gentle.

Cupping her hands over one another, Merrill held her tongue, knowing it would be insulting to speak the words. Yet...if the Maker _didn't_ exist... _Falon'Din, guider of the dead, allow this woman passage through the veil_. _She is not of the people, but your love reaches all living things, and I know you'll heed me_. The prayer made her glance at Garrett again, unsure if she dared speak to the man staring straight ahead, just a hint of a tremble of his lips revealing he was even alive.

_I shouldn't say anything_.

Merrill looked back, studying Bethany's ruined features with a grimace. _She was so pretty, only a moment ago, it feels like_..._and so pretty on the inside too. I understand why her brothers wanted to protect her_... She grimaced. _I_..._even though we never managed to get along_..._I'll_ _miss_ _you_. The thought brought a weak smile to her lips. _Me, missing a human_..._this has been a strange year for me_..._if only the clan could see me now_.

Still, though the moment somehow stretched on, without feeling too awkward for Merrill...something about it felt _wrong_. Finally, she couldn't help herself. "I...I'm sorry..." Next to her, Garrett stiffened, but didn't say anything, nor look at her. Merrill, taking a deep breath, struggled on. "W-wasn't she A-Andrastian...? I...w-wouldn't she w-want to be cr-cremated...?"

She winced at her blunt words, drawing back from the man, ready for a glare...yet he didn't even look at her, his eyes hard like stone as they stared at the woman.

But then, he blinked, slowly, as if in a daze. "Y-you..." It was but a whisper, and he had to cough to clear his throat and speak up. "...you're right..." He closed his eyes, swallowing. "...but we don't have any wood, nor enough moss, I...I can't..." He paused, then turned his head, looking at her.

The grief in his eyes made her take a step back.

"C-could you...?" He couldn't say it, the words obviously sticking in his throat as he made an unsure gesture in Bethany's direction.

_I'm not good with fire_. _I could call Anders here_. _Are you sure you won't be mad with me for doing so to her_?_ I'm scared of doing it wrong_. The words and questions flicked through her mind, yet she said none of them, unable to do so while facing the grief of the man. Instead, she found herself clearing her throat. "O-of course..."

The man looked at her for a moment longer, then turned his head, resting his gaze on Bethany, something in his posture making Merrill look at her too, unable to otherwise move.

The woman's lips weren't as blue as they'd once been, the veins not as pronounced, her skin nearly white and unblemished, like a statue carved out of marble. _Beautiful_.

Maybe Garrett thought so too, or maybe all his thoughts were devoted to grief and guilt...his face told her nothing as he stepped back next to the motionless Maric, his gaze fixed on his dead sister as he croaked out a quiet. "Go ahead."

Swallowing, nervous, Merrill raised her hands and took a deep breath. All around her, energy existed, moving, warm, _burning_...the fade pulling at that energy at her command, gripping at those motes of fire. Taking deep breaths, Merrill felt the fire all around her as the energy from magma of the rock was pulled forth, energy shaking in untrained hands, hands having no aptitude for such energies.

_I can't fail him, not in this_.

The energy grew, focused...right where she commanded it to go.

A crackle...and suddenly Bethany's clothes were on fire.

_More_.

The flames rose in intensity, digging into her flesh, new fires appearing deep within the body, charring flesh and bone alike.

_More_.

A roar...and the fire was an inferno, rapidly consuming the body before them.

Merrill lowered her arms, sweat beading down her face from the fire as much as from the strain of handling such unfamiliar energies...yet she found her breathing to be calm as she watched the fire destroy the woman's flesh, turning her into ash.

_Ash_..._and possibly closure_. Merrill inched away from the searing flames and glanced at Garrett, but the man's face was unreadable, posture stiff and eyes unblinking as he stared into the magical fire.

Looking back, Merrill found nothing but ash where the body had once been, and even that was but a fine powder, barely enough to fill a... "You want me to get a bag?" Merrill bit her lower lip in horror, then shook her head, forcing her to continue now that she'd said it. "For the...remains...I mean..."

Silence.

Dreadful, scary silence.

Then, Garrett nodded, the motion as well as his voice stiff. "Yes."

_O-okay_... Merrill inched away from him, unsure if she should hurry or give him a moment, if she'd upset him or pleased him, if been disrespectful or not with all her suggestions. Turning, she hugged her shoulders as she moved away.

Garrett's call barely reached her, making her ears stiffen. "Merrill?"

"Y-yes?"

"Thank you."

8

8

8

_Thanks to Abydos Jackson, for her fire._


	38. Chapter 38

_Sun_...

Varric smiled and closed his eyes as he turned his head up to face the warmth as he stepped outside. Even two months after leaving the Deep Roads behind, he couldn't help but feel thankful for something so simple as the sun on his face. And given how things had panned out...he had a lot of time to appreciate such small things.

His share of the loot – even after he had convinced a not _too_ reluctant Garrett to give the others the pay of those that hadn't made it – was more than he ever could hope to spend, at least with his habits...and why would he change his habits? Unlike Garrett, he had no one to support now. It was...odd...but without Bartrand, Varric had suddenly a lot of free time. He no longer had to watch his brother's back and constantly be on damage-control, nor attend merchant-guilds meetings and talk to various contacts in the underworld. Of course, he still kept up with the contacts in the underworld, but now more as a hobby...and he could now focus most of his time on telling tales, socialise with people and sing the odd song...a relaxing existence he was very happy with.

It made him feel guilty, to be _relieved_ that Bartrand was gone, but in the end, it was hard to grieve for a man choosing a moment with his gold over his own brother. _You always were greedy and heartless, Bartrand, but I thought you at least cared about __me_...

Sighing, Varric opened his eyes and shook his head. There was no point beating himself up about what had happened, especially when it hadn't been his fault. _Speaking of Garrett_... Varric steered his steps towards Hightown, having already decided to pay the man a visit a week ago.

The escape from the Deep Roads had proceeded relatively painlessly after the loss of Bethany. They had encountered no more Darkspawn, and between the three of them, he, Garrett and Merrill had turned the Deepstalkers more into a source of nourishment than a threat. Sure, it had taken a while, but after Fenris had noticed a similar intersection, meaning the group was back on track, it had been a straight shot back to Kirkwall.

Garrett had practically been a mute during that journey, no attempt by any in the group capable of dispelling the frown of depression or the look of despair in his eyes. Yet he _had_ led them out, and he _had_ bought back the Amell mansion in Hightown...and given what Varric had learned, the man was anything but a broken man. _Tough lot, those Hawkes_.

Varric had kept his distance the two months since their return, both out of respect for what had happened – surely Garrett wouldn't want a reminder of his loss to come knocking on his door – but because he knew that the man was busy like a fox in the hen-house. Varric liked to think he looked out for his friends, and after all that had happened, he liked to think of Garrett as a friend...so he'd...listened in on what the man was up to, curious and protective in equal measure. _He's not like me, enjoying what he has, no he wants more, he wants to change things_..._no wonder I get the feeling he'll be a good source of new tales_.

His contacts in the underworld had all been quite thrilled about the new noble in town, as had many contractors and minor businesses. The man had already invested in several smaller merchants, nothing major, but Varric could – after all his time with Bartrand – spot the nucleus of a trading-network when he saw it. Garrett was also hiring, workers and masons for his mansion, as well as dozens of workers and various experts, along with near a _hundred_ mercenaries, buying them equipment and tools for lumps sums even _Kirkwall_ seldom saw. _Why Garrett, if I didn't know better, I'd say you're mounting a second expedition with the intent to clear out the demons and get a hold of all we left behind_... Not that Varric minded, Garrett could have it all for all he cared, since Varric was set for life. _Even recruiting apostate mages via Anders_..._you don't do things in half-measures, __do you_?

Moving up the familiar steps leading to Hightown, Varric was greeted with the usual market full of trinkets the nobles might want. It was a far cry from the packed markets down in Lowtown, one Varric found rather dull...but it was _clean_ and _open_...two things Varric had learnt to appreciate in the dusty and claustrophobic Deep Roads. Being a familiar sight in every part of town, Varric didn't draw nearly enough looks as the average dwarf in less than pristine clothing would in Hightown, meaning none accosted him like they might have with other people.

_Unlike say, Isabela and Merrill_...

Smirking, Varric approached the two women from the side, watching the scene develop. Merrill was a step behind Isabela, looking decidedly awkward as with pink ears she glanced left and right at everyone who cast them but a glance..which most did. Isabela on the other hand, was practically leaning on the guard she was speaking to, her voice like velvet, yet with the slightest hint of edge to it. "Now, I know my hind-quarters are delicious, but you have been following us for the last five minutes, so if I didn't know better, I'd think you actually believe us to be _thieves_..."

"L-lady, I'm ju-just doing my job..." The guard seemed to be hiding under his helmet, yet there was no concealing the blush under the eyes darting between the woman whose chest was pressing into his armour and to the sides to try and find some kind of escape _Isabela_..._Maker, you're evil at times_. Varric snickered. "Th-there's been reports of pi-pickpockets and-"

"Oh? So just because I don't have a fancy coat, I'm a thief? Are you discriminating against the poor now? Or is it because of my friend here being an elf? _Racist_." Isabela practically spat the last word, making the guard take a step back, yet she remained on him, giving him no room to breathe or escape. "I know Aveline you know." She raised a hand, pressing two fingers together. "We're _this_ close." _Yeah, close to coming to blows, maybe_. Varric grinned as the woman, without a hint of shame, lied through her teeth. "So unless you want _single_ patrol in Darktown, at _night_, I'd back off if I were you." 

"I think that's what he's trying to do, actually." Varric chimed in, grinning at the two ladies as they turned a pair of pearly smiles his way. _Way better than Bartrand, people who like me for who I am rather than what_. Still smiling, he turned his gaze to the confused guard, the poor man still probably unable to remember that the guard _never_ sent single guardsmen into Darktown. "Hey, Daveth, relax, they're with me, not thieves."

"Ah...well I didn't..." The man struggled to answer, confused.

And Varric turned his smile over to Isabela, assuming a gentle tone. "And I'm sure Daveth meant no disrespect, he's a nice kid."

A glimmer of amusement in Isabela's eyes, and she backed away with a pout. "Fine, it was all a misunderstanding."

"Exactly." Varric gestured to Daveth to walk away, which he all to eagerly did, much to a few passers-by obvious amusement. Watching the man leave, Varric waited for a moment before turning his gaze back to Isabela with a grin. "So what will you do with the money?"

"This?" Isabela raised the little pouch she'd snatched from the guard while he'd been busy alternating between eyeing her cleavage and looking for a way out, shook it and grunted in disappointment at the small rattle. "Share one ale with Merrill, it seems...I really think he owes us more after such an insult. Thieves...bah!" She offered a feigned look of anger even as her eyes flashed in amusement.

"Yes...that was...rude?" Merrill chimed in, the elf staring at Isabela's face, then the pouch she was now slipping onto her belt, a look of confusion on her face. "Wait, you didn't just-"

"Do you know _everyone_, Varric?" Isabela interrupted before Merrill could ask the question she probably didn't want answered. "Or are you a mage in dwarf disguise?"

"Indeed, you've caught me, Templar." Varric held up his hands in surrender, grinning. Then he shrugged. "Information is a fun trade to ply, the use of it a fun game to play, and I'm _good_ at it, I'm afraid."

"So..." Isabela smirked, looking over Varric's appearance, gaze as always lingering on his chest to tease. "...where's your satin robes and servants, Varric? You _did_ get half the share, didn't you?"

"Oh please, if I showed up like that, no one would take me seriously." Varric chuckled. "Call me a dragon, I mostly prefer to just sit on that wealth, knowing it's there."

"Ah, so now you sleep on a bed of money?" Isabela licked her lips, gaze drifting off. "Sounds beautiful..."

"It's kind of painful, actually, gives me a crick in my back." Varric snickered, then turned his gaze to Merrill before Isabela could offer to make such a bed a little smaller. _The dragon must guard his hoard from looters, after all...especially those who'd gladly take everything_. "How are you doing, Daisy?"

The elf made a little jump at the question, looking surprised at being noticed. Yet the smile was kind, the strained kind Varric knew she used when she was trying to not complain. "Oh it's good, the pay from the expedition was very good, so even though I haven't had a job for a long time, I still have money saved...a little, at least." Varric smiled back, knowing that already. _Can't be much left now, even with you not spending too much of it in the Hanged Man with Isabela_. "Oh, but I did get a job last week...for a washerwoman..." Merrill glanced down, making Varric notice her reddened hands. "...I'm not very good at it."

_No, no you're not_. _In fact, you will likely be fired by the end of the week, and this woman isn't known to pay elves that disappoint her_. Varric wasn't about to say it though, Merrill was obviously trying to become independent, and robbing her of that chance wouldn't be kind. _Still_... "Well, if it doesn't work out, you can always come to me. I'm pretty good at finding people employment, you know."

"Thank you!" Merrill's face split into a wide grin, big eyes twinkling, making Varric and Isabela exchange a grin. _Cute as a puppy, that one_. "You are so nice, Varric, not at all like your brother."

Varric blinked, feeling something small twist in his stomach even as Isabela shot the elf an exasperated look. "_Merrill_..."

"Oh! I shouldn't have..." Merrill put a hand over her mouth, eyes even wider than usual. "...I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay, Daisy." Varric offered a pale smile and raised a hand, silencing the babbling he was sure was about to explode from the elf. "I know...besides, you're right, I'm nicer than he was, always was." He found his smile turn a little more genuine as he brushed the grief aside. "Now, I'm guessing you two are as curious as I am about what the Hawkes have been up to?" The two women nodded, one with a grin, the other with a giddy jump. "Well then let us join forces and we'll go and check now, eh?"

With a few mutters of ascents, the trio made their way towards the Amell mansion. Though despite the long walk – the mansion lay at the heart of Hightown – it wasn't hard to find the building.

For it was big, _very_ big.

Built during the Orlesian occupation, the mansion was more of a _palace_, an opulent central structure of high pillars and curved arches, all in marble covered in carvings too small for anyone but a guest to see, beautiful beyond compare to anything in Lowtown. Around it, smaller buildings, including a stable and a barrack enough for a small army – the Orlesian occupiers hadn't been too popular in Kirkwall – were laid out and built in largely the same ostentatious manner. Placed on a low hill, like many of the larger and central mansions, the palace towered over much of the surrounding city. Around it, gardens that had obviously been left untended – with plants choked dead by weeds or died off due to a lack of care – spread out far and wide, enough space to rival that of a small farm. _Ugly when the gardens are all a mess though_..._no wonder Garrett managed to buy the mansion relatively cheap, the other nobles must have pushed to have the previous owners removed_..._good, never did like slavers_.

A few of the workers Garrett had hired were busy pulling weeds and working the untended soil beneath, though Varric had an inkling that was more Leandra's doing than Garrett's.

The majority were at the edge of the estate though, working on the wall, much to the annoyance of passing nobles, being forced to watch dirty people from Lowtown and even Darktown on the streets of Hightown. The men, motivated by better pay than they usually could ever dream of – legally, at least – were working hard though, and most of the original wall had already been removed. The six feet wall of white lime would apparently not do to Garrett, and while of white stones too, the new wall they were already raising near where the gate would be a full twelve feet tall...Varric even noticed how a _parapet_ was being built atop the one section close to being finished. _Figures, give a Fereldian a fence and he turns into a wall, bet if they had a ditch, he'd make a moat out of it_. Varric chuckled.

His humour swiftly faded though, he could easily picture the reason for Garrett's decision to make a sturdier wall around his home, and there was nothing funny about that.

Next to him, Merrill was giving the burgeoning wall a hesitant look, torn between the Dalish dislike of such creations and perhaps a sympathetic inkling as to why it was being made. Isabela, on the other hand, was giving Varric a confused look, not really understanding his suddenly grim face. _Oh she knows the facts, but to __understand_..._it's hard to do that when you weren't there, when you didn't see the naked agony_...

With lessened saunter to his steps, Varric approached where a path leading up towards the mansion suggested there would be a gate. He hadn't missed the sentries with halberds spread out along the garden to make sure no one entered uninvited, so judged it best to approach in the proper manner.

There, two guards eyed the approaching trio with bewilderment, one's eyes large, the other with an eyebrow arched in disbelief and a hint of hostility. In contrast to the ones in the garden, these were gripping still sheathed swords at their hips, and held up shields displaying a black background with the two blood-red birds of the Amell family crest facing one another, claws intertwined in a complex pattern. _Huh, almost looks like a pair of hawks_..._but that's probably just a silly coincidence_. "Greetings, friends."

"Erm...hello?" The big-eyed man replied in typical Fereldian voice, gaze darting between the three before him, perhaps trying to guess who fitted in the least in Hightown, the crossbow-carrying dwarf, the woman looking like a prostitute or the Dalish in chainmail. _Why is she even wearing that now_? _I thought I'd paid the Coterie to stay off her back without her noticing_..._better check the local alienage thugs too, one or two might have been stupid_, _ah, if only they knew who I'm protecting from whom_...

The other guard tightened his grip on his weapon though, looking like he'd been insulted. His accent was heavily Orlesian compared to the other man, though a hint of Nevarra slipped in. "State your business." He glanced at the two women at Varric's back, ever so slightly shaking his head. _Ah, yes, I see how this might_..._look_ _bad_. "And be quick about it."

"I'm sorry, I meant no offence, it was presumptuous of me to call you friend, such titles are earned, not stolen like some cheap trinket." Varric made a deep bow, making sure to keep it in the Orlesian pattern to further confuse the hostile guard. _Love doing that_. When he looked up again, there was a decidedly stumped look on the guard's face as he tried to match the noble bow to the look of the dwarf before him. "I'm Varric Tethras, of the house Tethras. I'm a friend..." _I'd like to think so, at least, hard to not do so after all we've been through_. "...of your master and employer, Garrett Hawke...this _is_ his mansion, is it not?" Varric assumed a confused look, making Isabela smirk. "I might have gotten my addresses wrong, but I do believe he knows I would come by to visit this week?"

The guard, now looking unsure, exchanged a glance with the slack-jawed Fereldian – _looks like a bit of a moron, that other one, ah well, you take what you can get_ – then turned his head, never taking his eyes off the group as he shot a shout back. "Ser! Ser Bastile!" _Ohhh_..._sounds_ _solid_.

The man that appeared from around one of the slowly growing walls looked every bit like one would expect an Orlesian chevalier to look like. His shortly cropped black hair contrasted sharply to a thick and oiled moustache. His impressive stature was covered in a black tunic with the Hawke heraldry on the front, the big sword strapped to his back showing a handle and cross-guard worn with wear. His face, while perhaps handsome once, was worn not just by age and weather, but marked by some old burn along his jaw, as well as sporting a broad and white scar across his nose and down along his left cheek. The man was walking with a limp, supporting himself on a white cane which Varric instantly realised held a hidden blade within. _That is a dangerous man, but is that good or bad_? The way he held himself though, despite the limp, was with pride, and the gaze he shot the three visitors was one of stoicism, refusing to show his opinion so soon as he turned to the shouting guard. "Yes, Orwell?" His accent was as Orlesian as it could get, but with a clipped quality to it.

"This man claims to be Varric Tethras...I...weren't we supposed to let-"

"Yes, yes you were." The large man instantly replied, narrowing his eyes at the guard, who – to his credit – remained where he stood. "So why isn't he in already?"

"W-well Ser, the other two..." The guard nodded at the trio before them.

"I see, good work." Bastile's eyes, hard and grey, swept past Varric and to Merrill...and though his face remained passive, there was a hint of disapproval in his eyes that Varric could just make out. _Orlesians and free elves, like oil and water_..._but he's not insulted her yet, I give him that_. "Name?"

"M-Merrill?" The elf replied, looking unsure enough to make Varric wonder if she actually _had_ forgotten her name.

The man that Varric by now just knew _had_ to be a chevalier – perhaps retired due to his limp – looked at the elf for a moment longer, gauging her reply, then nodded and turned his gaze to Isabela. "And you, mademoiselle?"

Isabela pulled back at the Orlesian word, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as she purred her answer. "_Isabela_..._Serah_..."

The man didn't react in the slightest to the suggestive tone of the purr, his eyes narrowing, yet otherwise blank, making Varric realise Garrett likely hadn't put her on some list for people to let in. After a glance at Varric though, the man offered a short nod and took a step to the side. "Welcome in, then. Forgive my guards, but they are doing their job, Serah Hawke has made it abundantly clear he expects us to run a..'tight ship', is the term he used, I believe." There was a hint of approval in the man's voice at that, then he gestured up at the palace. "I'm sorry, but I'm needed here. Please, go on in and you'll likely find Serah Hawke in the main hall, if not, one of the servants can show you the way, I'm sure."

"Thank you, appreciated." Varric offered a simpler bow this time, more of a nod of his head, and as he had guessed, the man offered a respectful nod back. _You never know with the Chevaliers, half expect every courtesy of a nobleman, the other half is iron_..._no surprise which type Garrett went with, really_. With Isabela and Merrill in tow, Varric marched on, up the gentle slope, past men and women working on the garden, and towards the palace.

Despite his rather blasé way of viewing the world and people in general...Varric had to admit the palace was...impressive. _Not as much heart as my private place in the Hanged Man, but I can see the_..._appeal_. Before them, the high roof of white marble depicted various scenes of riding knights with fluttering pennons, the roof jutted out from the house, shielding a large patio whose white railing moulded into a few thin pillars of bronze-coloured basalt, polished to a shine. The high set of oaken doors in black framed by an arch of white marble Andraste's graces was closed and flanked by two female guards, and there was the unmistakable sound of work escaping through them, making Varric raise an eyebrow. _Damn, two months and still not done_?

Moving up the three steps needed to reach the edge of the patio, the two guards, halberds resting against the floor, moved in sync, opening the door for the group. Though while their faces remained impassive, there was clearly puzzlement in their eyes as they darted over the group._ They just need to get to know me, in a week or so, I'll be known by all and know them in turn_... Varric was good with people, after all.

His thoughts on that matter swiftly faded though, as he moved past the doorway and let his gaze sweep over the interior.

The room they were in was large enough to swallow Varric's entire apartment. The polished floor was grey, but a fresco depicting a black dragon's head at its centre made exquisite detail and seemed to look up at the group. On the right, a desk of oak ran along the length of the room, a pair of men in rough clothing were behind it, busy tearing down a worn-looking closet large enough to fit the coats for a hundred people as orderly piles of dark-brown wood lay on the bench, ready to be shaped into a new one.

Above, the light from a single round window in the centre of the high round ceiling bathed the chamber in light, illuminating a ceiling covered in murals done primarily in blue and white, making it seem like one was outdoors, looking up at the sky.

_Maker, Garrett sure has upgraded from Gamlen's sty_...

Further ahead, there was a large archway leading into the main hall, and though Varric could only see part of it, it was enough to make him raise an eyebrow. The floor was pristinely white, the walls equally so, yet mostly concealed behind gilded support-columns and rows upon rows of paintings. _Maker, I never thought Garrett would spend a fortune on something like that_... There was also a pair of stairs running parallel to one another up on each side of the room at its far side. Atop the mezzanine they reached, Leandra was standing in a deep red dress, directing a small army of servants carrying all from furniture to cutlery and books back and forth. She looked stressed, stressed and with a somewhat forced smile on her lips, a smile not quite reaching her eyes. _At least she's embracing being a noble again_..._tough, those Hawkes_. Varric wasn't sure he bought the woman's appearance though. _She's trying to hide the pain, probably from herself_...

The woman didn't notice them, nor did the man striding into their room from the main hall, his burgundy vest with golden buttons and beige trousers making him look every inch the nobleman he'd now become. "Yes, you wanted to ask something?" Garrett's voice was strained, betraying a hint of stress, but other than that it was the usual Hawke, confident and collected to the core. "I don't have a lot of...Varric?" Garrett turned his head, looking at the dwarf, the tiniest of smiles creeping to the corner of his lips, though as with Leandra, it didn't reach his eyes. Blinking, Garrett turned back to the two workers. "You can continue with this later, I believe they need help in the kitchen too, if you don't mind."

The two workers exchanged a glance, shrugged and grunted something under their breath as they picked up their tools and walked out the way Garrett had entered.

The man's attention was on his guests, his smile turning a little more genuine, though yet again, it seemed to lack a spark. "Varric, Merrill, it's been too long, friends." He looked over to Isabela...and to Varric's surprise he even had a smile in him for her. _Well, at least he's not a wreck_...? "Isabela, it's been a long time, good to see you."

"Awww, I don't get a 'friend'?" Isabela feigned a pout. "I'm hurt." 

"Do not take it too harshly, you get what you earn." Garrett smile became a little strained. "I'm not throwing you out or checking my silverware, am I?"

"Maybe you should." Varric chuckled as he interrupted whatever Isabela was about to say, not about to have Isabela and Garrett's first meeting since the expedition turn sour. "I mean Maker, Hawke, with all this stuff...you must have spent the majority of your share _already_."

"I've invested most of it as wisely as I can..." Garrett replied...and the other three looked over his shoulder in time to see a chandelier large enough to require four carriers move by at the instructions of Leandra. Before them, Garrett stiffly refused to notice it, a haunted look flickering by in his eyes. "...my mother is a different matter, however." 

"She's just trying to find her roots again, get back to being a noble..." Varric replied, giving a reassuring smile even as he winced in sympathy, understanding how Garrett and his mother were trying to cope. Isabela and Merrill, however, did not grasp that, their titter making Garrett take a calming breath. "...but wow, talk about some investments, I've heard all about them...not about to go down the path of Gamlen, are you?" Garrett tilted his head to the side, giving Varric an insulted look that made the dwarf dutifully chuckle. "I didn't think so!" He shot a glance left and right. "Where is the old sod anyway?"

"Probably down in the wine-cellar." Garrett replied, then a little smirk actually worked itself to the corner of his lips. "The _empty_ wine-cellar...not that he's not trying hard to find something I've 'hidden'...and no, Isabela, there's nothing actually hidden there."

"Wasn't about to ask..." Isabela snorted. "And I'm just surprised you let him stay here, not scared he'll waste your fortune away?"

"He's on a...stipend." Garrett replied, shifting where he stood.

Merrill was the first to snicker. "Y-you...gave him an a-allowance...?"

Isabela burst out laughing, doubling over and making a passing servant flinch away from the doorway he was passing. As Isabela did so, Varric was wryly eyeing Garrett. "Probably out of necessity, all those investments, this house being put into order...how much money do you have _left_, exactly?"

Garrett stretched to his full height, looking slightly insulted, the stress in his eyes clear. "Enough, and I'll get more." He shrugged when Varric arched an eyebrow. "I knew reaching for nobility would be expensive, but not quite _how_ expensive...investments _must_ be made if this position is to be held. I know what I'm doing though."

"Yes..." Varric tilted his head a little, offering a smirk. "...heard all about your expedition..."

To his credit, Garrett looked guilty for a brief moment, then he straightened, probably having gone through what he was going to say...the man was nothing if not thorough. "Yes, I know how it might look, you _are_ still my partner in discovering the Thaig, and are as such entitled to half of what's down there. However, given my investments in this next expedition, I must ask of you, if you want a part of what the expedition brings back, to invest-"

"Relax, Garrett, just messing with you." Varric held up his hands, stopping Garrett's speech with a smile. "I have all I want, it's yours to do with as you want."

"Ah, okay...good." Garrett looked surprised, then pleased, offering a courteous nod, moved to offer his hand, then thought better of it and nodded again, looking somewhat awkward. _This social bit somewhat_..._new to you, is it_? "I was going to tell you sooner, but...well...you see yourself." He gestured at the mess of activity behind him, again, visibly struggling to maintain his smile.

"Ah, yes, I can see." Varric nodded, then hesitated, too many bad memories coming up as he recalled the dim twilight that had been the Thaig. "You don't worry...losing the entire expedition? I admit I don't know fully how many mercenaries you have, but there was an awful lot of those...things."

Garrett's face froze, what pale smile he'd managed dying, both him, Merrill and Varric casting their eyes down, as if seeing the terrifying Thaig somewhere underneath their feet. Yet surprisingly, Garrett was the first one to shake off the horrifying images, his tone calm and assertive, sure of himself as only a man who'd gone through the facts a hundred times could be. "Our fault that time was our lack of numbers and being hit when we were unprepared. _I_ have the entire Red Irons mercenary gang assisting with skirmishing and drawing out the demons into the open, I have two hundred mercenary pikemen from the Anderfels hired on, as well as fifty Orlesian halberdiers, they'll turn the plaza into a funnel and slaughter the demons as they come. If that isn't enough, I have two..._specialists_ hired on through Anders' help, they'll make these mercenaries even more potent." Varric arched an eyebrow. _Even careful about mentioning magic in his own home, his guard hasn't gotten rusty at least, that's for sure_. "Plus, I even hired on Samson – the retired Templar, if you recall – to assist...I believe a Templar would do wonders versus demons, don't you?" Garrett moved a hand up to stroke a stubbled chin, voice a low mutter as his tired eyes turned glassy. "In fact, I might keep him around after that, with the Templars dominating Kirkwall, he might prove...useful..."

Varric and Isabela were staring at him with wonder, the later speaking what was on their mind. "You've hired...over two hundred mercenaries?" _The expense for mercenaries is high enough for odd jobs, for something big like an expedition_...Varric knew there was good reason for Bartrand hiring on as few as possible.

"I do things _right_." Garrett shrugged, then shot Varric an apologetic look, considering what he was implying. Varric only shrugged in return, he wasn't about to think about his foolish brother if he could help it. "But yes, it's expensive, which is why they're leaving tomorrow...I expect it to be a success and it'll clear out the Thaig for cheaper expeditions in the future. Not that this is the end of it all. I fully intend to move into the business of trading and mining here in Kirkwall, there's a lot of coin to be made there, _especially_ if you have an initial source of wealth like the Thaig."

"Ah, lots of plans, lots of gold...what are you going to do with all that?" Isabela licked her lips.

Garrett frowned at her, then shrugged. "I will use it to secure my position in Kirkwall, to give my family _all_ they could wish for." A shadow fell over his face. _What's left of it_. Then it was gone in a flash, replaced by a the smile stuck to his lips like a mask. "My family will be the safest and strongest in Kirkwall by the time I'm done, I assure you."

"Ah, interesting, figured you wouldn't sit on your laurels..." Varric grinned as best he could, willing to help distract the man. _I foresee new tales in the future_. "But keep talking like that, and people might start worrying you'll try to become Viscount!"

"Anything's possible." Was Garrett's reply, his non-committal shrug saying more than anything else he might have done. _Holy_... Varric stared at the man, torn between being impressed and worried over his friend's growing ambition, considering he was still such a small fish among the nobles.

Before Varric could comment though, Merrill finally exploded. "This place is _amazing_! Look at the ceiling! And the walls! And the colours! Oh but there's too few...oh but I like those paintings over there! And that dragon on the floor looks like it's alive!" Varric and Isabela exchanged a grin before looking to Merrill's excited face and bouncing feet. Even Garrett smiled, though his smile wasn't really amused, rather patient and surprisingly friendly. _Guess she earned a lot of points with helping with Bethany's funeral if he actually listens to half of that wordstorm_... "And did you notice that one figure in the ceiling? I think that's an elf but not a Dalish elf, yet not a city elf either, who was the artist making it? And how many rooms are there here? Have you found a use for them all? Are they all as pretty as this one?"

For a moment, silence reigned in the wake of Merrill's questions.

The elf began to turn red as Varric and Isabela continued to grin at her.

Then Garrett took a step to the side and gestured towards the next room, bowing his head slightly as he did so. "Would you three like a tour?"

"Oh! That sounds fun!" Merrill jumped at the offer, then stopped, looking a little unsure. "Errr...where's Carver by the way...?" Isabela chuckled as Varric rolled his eyes, it was all too obvious why Merrill worried about having to be around that man...

The only one not amused was Garrett, his smile finally crumpling, his posture stiffening. "He's not here at the moment..."

_Huh_...?

8

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8

_Thanks to Abydos Jackson, for all the blood and tears._


	39. Chapter 39

_Bethany_...

His shoulders slumping, Carver was half-sitting, half-lying on the bar at the Blooming Rose, the bottle of brandy in his hand – he'd lost the glass somewhere an hour ago – holding but a finger-width of amber liquid by now.

It hadn't been his first bottle today.

And every time he drank from it, he'd secretly hope to choke on the drink.

Because it was a drink bought with _Garrett's_ money.

The grief, the anger, the self-loathing, the feeling of helplessness...it was all sticking in Carver's throat to the point that he could barely breathe. He sure couldn't look himself in the mirror, nor stand his brother or mother...neither their concerned looks or their feigned happiness.

_Bethany, why you, and not him_?

It was a frightening, _horrible_ thought, yet it wasn't the first time he'd wished that to be.

Out of love of Bethany, but also out of anger with his brother, out of jealousy, out of _anger_ of that jealousy. Carver felt trapped, like he was falling, rolling down stairs, unable to stop the descent into...he wasn't sure, some place dark, some place _scary_.

So he drank. To forget about the fear, of the anger, of the misery...yet it wasn't doing him much good.

_I'm a grumpy drunk_... Carver grumbled, head thumping into the bar. ..._how_ _cliché_. The thought drew a groan from his mouth, his mind all too easily conjuring up Gamlen's face, yet warping it into his own. _Maker, I can't let myself become that_...

When Garrett had returned, Carver had been devastated at the news of Bethany, as had Leandra and even _Gamlen_...yet they had all too easily forced themselves to get over it, in Carver's opinion. The gold...oh the gold had been flowing...they had moved up in the world, become nobility...and somewhere in all that change, things had changed for the worse.

_Garrett focusing on nothing but money and power, Gamlen's all about the money and drinks he can now afford, mother is in love with old memories and a title_..._the_ _expedition_ _ruined_ _us_.

_And I'm here, drinking like a fool_.

The family had lost its heart with Bethany.

Growling, Carver grabbed the bottle and nearly hurled it at the wall, then he thought better of it and took a shallow sip, all too bitterly aware that he didn't have enough money to buy more. _Garrett putting me on an allowance like Gamlen, who does he think he is_? The gall of the man's decision was just another weight on Carver's already heavy heart. _What_? _He doesn't trust my judgement_?_ That's rich, coming from __him_...

By now Carver mostly stayed in the Blooming Rose, the Hanged Man, or the Lowtown Bazaar. Even the Chantry, whenever the thoughts of his sister's death became too much for him. _Like prayers will do her any good, she was the believer of us, and still died_.

It was no doing of the Maker that she had died though, Carver knew that much. After the man had told Leandra some lie about a random arrow, Carver had nearly _beaten_ the truth out of the man...or least been as close as he'd ever gotten to coming to blows with his brother to force the truth from his lips. _Blight disease, from the darkspawn, that __live__ in the bloody Deep Roads_!_ great plan, sending her down there, brother_! _And you __dare__ speak of me lacking judgement_?!

The grip on the bottle tightened as Carver glared at the far wall. _You were supposed to keep her safe_! _We__ were supposed to keep her safe_!

That stung almost more than Garrett's failure.

_I wasn't even there, never got to try and save her, I could have stopped it altogether_... Swallowing the sudden lump in his throat, Carver took another swipe from his bottle, the burning sensation all too quickly fading away, leaving a hole in his chest that wouldn't be filled. _I didn't even get to say good bye_..._you never even gave me the option to come along_...

Carver hated that. E_verything that has happened so far is due to Garrett's decisions, he's driven every change in our lives, defined who we are_! _No one else even get a say in the matter_! A_nd everyone else just goes along with it_. Carver _especially_ hated that. _If __I'd__ gotten Bethany killed, they'd have strung me up and thrown me out_. _Garrett does it and everyone straight up forgives him and feels __sympathy__ for him_! _Oh I saw the guilt in Garrett's eyes, but that's not __good__enough_! _Why is he never __punished__ for what he does, like me_!?

Finishing the bottle with a grunt, Carver angrily slammed it into the counter, ignoring the glares he received from the bartender as he glowered at the bottle. _But nooo_..._Garrett's too great, let's all __pretend__ that everything is fine and move into High Town, __that'll__ solve everything_. We've moved on! _Everything's __great_! _We have money and are one big happy family_! Grumbling, Carver again raised the bottle, spotting a single drop at the bottom, his voice was a low grunt. "Fucking pretending..." He moved the drink up, struggling to get the drop to slide down to the mouth of the bottle. _And what happens when I point out that they're all just faking and just acting as if everything's fine_? _Mother starts crying, Gamlen leaves and Garrett starts chewing me out_! _Like it's __my__ fault_! _I wasn't the one that got her killed_!

With a growl, Carver gave up trying to get to the droplet and hurled the bottle into the wall ahead, making it shatter with a satisfying crash. "Hey!" Carver raised his hand, giving the protesting the bartender the finger. The man grumbled...but went quiet as Carver reached up to scratch the back of his head, near the pommel of the sword on his back. _Good and reliable, not the new fancy new blade Garrett wanted to get me_..._I'm through dancing to his pipe. I'm through getting things from him_! At the thought, Carver glanced down at the shattered bottle, the bottle he'd bought with _Garrett's_ money...and the self-loathing reared its ugly head again.

Groaning, Carver laid his forehead to rest on the counter, his hands closing into fists of frustration._ I spend my entire life protecting Bethany, and Garrett gets all the credit, because he does it more willingly_._ Garrett gets her killed_..._and he's forgiven as I'm left to_..._what_..._be the brother that can never measure up_? _Like Gamlen_? _I'll live on the stipend __he's__ graced me with, in __his__ house, eating __his__ food, wearing __his__ clothes and doing what __he__ wants_? The thought sent a shiver of dread down his spine, making him squeeze his eyes shut_. I didn't do __anything__ because he told me to though, __never__ that_..._it was for __Bethany's__ sake_..._and now she's dead, because of him_. Gritting his teeth, Carver struggled with the rage boiling in him. _I sacrificed so much of my life for her, and he didn't even give me a chance to protect her when it mattered_..._and now I'm supposed to keep meekly following his orders, like before_!?

Within him, something burst.

"I will not." Grunting, Carver raised his head, a sudden calm settling over him as he repeated the words. "I will not." He shook his head, trying to bring some perspective on his sudden revelation, yet he couldn't shake it off, the idea refusing to let go of him. "I'm going to be my own man."

He slipped off his chair, legs unsteady under him, yet keeping him upright as he turned towards the door. His steps were unsure, yet getting more steady by the moment.

Somehow, a bitter smile found its way to his lips. "I'll make my own fate."

8

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8

"These die are really _mean_." Merrill pouted, looking down at the score made by the three die she'd just rolled. "They keep making you win."

At the other side of the table in the Hanged Man, Isabela was smiling at her even as the pirate sighed. "And why do you think that?"

"I...don't know." Merrill shook her head, confused as she looked to the seashells they used for money. By now, Isabela had nearly all of them, while Merrill was holding onto the three prettiest, unwilling to spend them in another futile attempt at beating the pirate. "I...I know how to count, and I know how to calculate odds...yet you're the one who's correct nearly every time! Even when I have the better odds!" She tapped her chin, biting her bottom lip. "Maybe...maybe you're just lucky today?"

"Like every other day?" Isabela asked, the smile turning somewhat strained. "Come now, _think_, why do the die keep falling in my favour?"

Merrill frowned. She hated when Isabela did this, it was as if she was trying to teach Merrill some kind of lesson, but refused to tell her what _kind_ it was...leaving the elf to guess...and she _never_ got it right. Looking up at Isabela, she found the pirate looking back at her with a small smile, easily ignoring the stares and glances of the various men and women sitting at other tables, her attention fixed on Merrill...who then glanced down at the seashells and die again, brow furrowing as she tried to think of something, _anything_ that she might have missed. _All there is are the die_..._I_ _don't_..._I don't understand_. "I...don't know." She smiled up at Isabela. "I'm glad you're so lucky though, it must be nice..." 

For a moment, Isabela actually looked _angry_...then a little laugh bubbled out of her and she shook her head, face splitting into a pearly grin as she reached over the table to ruffle Merrill's hair. "Oh for...you're such a good person, Merrill, _too_ good, really."

Smiling, though confused, Merrill pushed a rogue strand back behind her ear and smiled back, a little shy after the praise. "Not _reaaally_...I think _most_ people are really good, actually."

Isabela shook her head, though her smile remained genuine. "And _that's_ why you're such a good person."

The elf frowned, sensing..._something_. "Are you okay, Isabela? You look a little...sad?"

"Ha! Me? _Sad_?" The pirate grinned, then moved to ruffle Merrill's hair again. "No, kitten, I'm just envious of you...it must be nice being you."

_Away from my clan and in a still foreign world surrounded by humans that either scorn me or see me as something cute and silly_? Merrill still smiled though, shaking off the depressing thought. _I have friends though, and learning lots of new things, I shouldn't complain_. "Oh? Well I think you have a much more exciting-"

That's when Garrett entered the bar.

A hush settled over the place, every pair of eyes drawn to the human, and even _Merrill_ understood why. The man had been known in Lowtown for a long time, but now, having reached the height of _nobility_, he was a _legend_. No one had _ever_ heard of a low mercenary – one of the scum of the city – reaching that far. A minor merchant, yes, a crime boss, sure, but a simple _mercenary_? It was unheard of. Anyone with ears – and Merrill had pretty big ones – had heard the tales of the man. Of how he'd secured his wealth with dashing confidence, of how he had bested thousands of darkspawn single-handedly, of how he'd slain ferocious demons in single combat and plundered their lairs...Merrill wasn't sure _who_ kept spreading such exaggerated stories, but they had taken root in Lowtown to the point that nearly _everyone_ believed them.

It didn't help that the man really looked the part.

Tall, broad of shoulder, his every movement confident and with his hard eyes filled with intelligence, it was all too easy to imagine him as capable as the stories made him out to be.

Of course, all the capability in the world wouldn't protect a lone noble in Lowtown, but everyone knew the man had quite a few agents in Lowtown that looked after his interests, not to mention that he paid a good chunk of protection-money to the Coterie as well.

Yet if someone was foolish enough to try something...Maric was at the man's heels, the dog even _larger_ than Merrill remembered, the better food available as the hound of a nobleman having made Maric grow into a terrifyingly large beast. _Hard to think he's so happy when you rub his belly now_... The man himself was armoured in leather, its dark green hue betraying it as having been made out of hardened dragonling skin, expensive and of high quality, offering comfort for walking around while maintaining protection matching that of chainmail. _Not surprising, the other armour he showed at his place looks uncomfortable_..._and_ _big_... Besides that, the man had a longsword of silverite – though lacking the decorations most blades of such quality had – at his hip and a dagger of veridium at the other side, close to his money-pouch...it was all too easy to imagine what would happen should any try to reach for the pouch while the man was resting a hand on the dagger's pommel.

Yes, Merrill could see why he'd draw looks.

The man had come to a stop, eyes scanning the surroundings, a little frown of impatience knitting together just between his eyebrows...then Maric gave voice to a little bark and prodded at his leg, eyes on Isabela and Merrill. Nodding in agreement, the man headed straight for them, ignoring the stares of those around him and drawing a little sigh from Isabela even as Merrill smiled up at the man, secretly eager to speak to him._ Maybe he'll have a job again_? _I_..._don't want to ask Varric to help me just like that_..._stupid shem woman, I didn't mean to ruin that shirt_..._no, I shouldn't think like that, I'm sure she only did what she had to do_..._could have paid me though_... "Hello, Garrett! How are you?"

The man, obviously on a mission, blinked at the greeting, then managed a smile. "Hello, Merrill, always good to see you." Merrill couldn't help but beam at that._ I've made another friend, I think_... "Isabela." The smile was merely polite when he looked to the pirate, but it was there at least. _Those two really should get along better, they're both humans, aren't they_? "Have either of you seen Carver? I've looked everywhere."

Merrill shook her head, a little disappointed about the lack of work, but not about to let it show. Isabela also shook her head, though added a smirk and a question. "Why not send out your _servants_ to look for him? You seem to have a small army of them..."

"Family matters are for the family." Was Garrett's stoic reply, the man refusing to react to Isabela's teasing tone "I just...hoped to find him here, that's all." There was a hint of tension in his voice, but his face betrayed nothing else.

Resting her head on her palms, Merrill shrugged while offering a reassuring smile. "Maybe he got lost? I've been here over a year and I _still_ get lost at times."

Isabela chuckled at that, but Garrett nodded. "Unlikely, but thank you, something...similar could have happened, for all I know." Merrill shot Isabela a look. _See_? _He__ takes me seriously_.

Of course, the pirate didn't notice, still grinning at Merrill's suggestion as she looked up at Garrett. "Right, well...oh, maybe Anders could tell you?" She pointed towards the doorway, through which Anders was entering.

_Ohhh_..._the whole group is almost here_. Merrill smiled at that, even though she and some of those in the group didn't get along, it still reminded her of being in her clan. _Though_..._I didn't get along with all in my clan either_..._well_..._with_ _most_, _actually_..._so_ _it's just like it_! _Except most are human_..._and_ _a_ _dwarf_... _and_ _a dog_..._okay, so maybe not totally like my clan, but a little_. Though, as Anders approached, his movement betrayed someone moving behind him, a woman, an _elf_ woman. _What_...? Again, Merrill felt a jab of guilt at the sight of the once Dalish woman, guilt and sympathy. _I_..._don't even remember her name_.

Yet somehow, _Garrett_ did. "Arianni...I did not expect to see you again." He turned his gaze to Anders, his tone somewhat cold. "Anders." _Guess he heard the man back in the Deep Roads then_... Merrill grimaced. _Why must everyone fight all the time_...?

"I'm, sorry, my lord, b-but..." The elf licked her lips, looking nervous as she shot Anders a questioning look.

The mage looked tired, as if he'd cast some powerful spell as of late...and his voice was parched. "What Arianni is trying to say is that we have a problem..." He held Garrett's gaze for a fraction longer than necessary, then looked down to the elf. "...Arianni?"

"I...I...it's Feynriel..." Garrett turned his gaze to her, and the elf visibly shifted where she stood, forehead shining with sweat, looking ready to faint, as if she was forcing herself to stay where she was and speak to him. _I don't remember her being so nervous last time_...? "M-my lo-lord, he's...h-he's not waking up..Anders th-thinks..."

"I think we're dealing with demons, trying to gain control of him..." Anders finished, shaking his head. "I've tried to train him, but he's more powerful than I anticipated, holding powers I know little about...I fear for his life." Garrett blinked at the words, his brow once more furrowing in a frown...a frown Merrill couldn't put her finger on what it meant.

"I...I know it's much to ask for...yo-you've already he-helped be-before m-my lord...b-but..." Arianni swallowed. "I only wish for him to...I just...if there's anything you could...do?"

Isabela suddenly snorted, leaning back in her chair. "Wow, you do realise he's now a noble, right? He has no need for a few coppers and-"

A hand dropped onto the pirate's shoulder, _Garrett's_ hand. Isabela and Merrill both looked to the man in surprise, finding a strange look in his eyes as he turned his gaze to Anders. "You know a way to help the boy?"

The mage nodded. "Yes...in the Fade, one can find him, find him and save him."

If the idea of entering the Fade frightened the man, he didn't show it. "Then..." He turned his eyes over to Arianni, whose eyes were widening in surprise at the soft smile on the man's lips. "...of course I'll help you."

Merrill blinked in surprise, then blinked again. _You'll_..._save the mage boy's life because_..._oh_... "C-can I help?" The words came without her thinking, yet she couldn't take them back.

He looked to her, smile gone, yet eyes nearly gentle, for once. "Of course." He glanced down at the seashells on the table that the elf and pirate had used as money in their game. "And I'll pay handsomely for your assistance." Isabela instantly shifted at the words, and to Merrill's surprise, it drew a little smile to Garrett's lips. "And that goes for you as well, Isabela. I think Fenris would be useful too." He turned his gaze to Anders. "Will that suffice?" The mage simply nodded. "Then make the preparations."

A moment later Arianni was on her knees, hands reaching up at Garrett even as she held her head low, making everyone in the bar look at the scene in shock. "Oh lord, thank you! I...thank you, my lord! I don't know how I can...I...I'm just so...thank you!" She thumped her forehead into the floor in supplication, making Merrill blush in embarrassment on her behalf. "You...you honour me!"

The man reached down, catching one hand and making Arianni look up with wide eyes rimmed by tears...and helped her back to her feet, face solemn. "The honour is mine."

Looking on, Merrill caught herself smiling.

8

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8

_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for always making time where there is none._


	40. Chapter 40

The world blurred.

From brown.

To green.

To purple.

And then, it, or maybe _he_, became solid once more.

Garrett, on the edge, instantly looked ahead with narrowed eyes as he reached for his sword...and found himself arching an eyebrow as his hand stopped. _Curious_..._is this the Fade_?_ It's not_..._what_ _I_ _expected_.

He saw no Black City, no sky _at all_, nothing that looked really shocking...yet at the same time, it was all..._off_.

He was at the end of what seemed an endless corridor. The floorboards were old and of cracked wood, revealing packed dirt wherever there was a larger tear, yet the walls were polished stone, featuring several windows of painted glass, all depicting various scenes from the Chant of Light. Along the corridor, there were also regular figures in Templar armour standing, seemingly frozen into statues, the tips of their swords resting on the ground. Some had lost their heads, others had melted into wretched figures, yet the majority still stood, something with their dark vision slits making a shudder of fear run down Garrett's spine.

The corridor also twisted, ever so slightly, until the far end was upside down, yet it didn't seem to affect the statuesque Templars, as if gravity itself was twisting along with the room.

_Peculiar_...

He drew his sword, not willing to let his guard down, yet feeling surprisingly confident.

Mostly, his new equipment gave him that confidence. The silverite longsword in his hand was as light as a feather and practically able to cut through stone, partly due to Master Wade's smithing, and partly due to Sandal's runes. His new heater shield, rimmed and covered with a thin sheath of silverite – the usual blue tint to it lost by the black and red heraldry on it – was not only better than any he'd used before, but covered in runes of protection from magic and trauma in equal measure. And his silverite armour, while perhaps not as decorated as that other nobles wore, was a marvel of smithing-craft, with every edge of every plate inscribed with tiny runes of protection from a variety of magic.

Merrill and Anders had both claimed none of that mattered if one entered the Fade, and Garrett believed them...yet it still felt comforting to wear it, to _feel_ powerful._ What you feel is everything here, or so the books say_..._I'm glad my mind still conjured up the armour here, as Anders suggested it might, knew it was wise to put it on before Anders began that complex spell of his_.

Then, as far as his confidence went, there was the matter that he _couldn't_ fail, that he wouldn't _allow_ himself to fail. _She won't find his breath fading, she won't find him dying without her being able to help, she won't_..._no, I won't allow it_. Garrett gritted his teeth, the grip on his sword tightening, almost welcoming whatever had possessed Feynriel to show itself. _I'll rip him back into the real world with my __teeth__ if I have to, demon_.

Next to him, Fenris also drew his sword, the elf stepping up beside him, the sound of his steps oddly hollow. A quick glance made both of Garrett's eyebrows arch up though, somewhat confused. The elf was still wearing his usual attire. However, the sword in his hands was a curious thing of black obsidian, looking more like a decorative blade than one for combat, yet the edge was real enough, and something about the whole design was...sinister. Also, the elf looked...smaller, shorter somehow, like the average elf, rather than his usual lanky height...and his _tattoos_...they were glowing bright, brighter than Garrett had ever seen them before. _So_..._that's how you view yourself_? Garrett wasn't entirely sure that was how it worked, but Anders had certainly suggested it as such before beginning his chant that would cast them into the Fade. _Why am I not surprised._.._save for the sword, not sure what that signifies_..._considering your frown, nothing good_. _Maybe_-

A shriek interrupted Garrett's thoughts, making him spin...and take a step back, caught between amusement and surprise.

Merrill's chainmail was gone, and the tabard she usually wore over it replaced by a green dress...though this dress was not worn or frayed in any way, the colour a vibrant green, tied together by yellow little bows and _flowers_...flowers that also featured heavily in her hair. _I_..._is_ _that a dress for_..._frolicking_!? Garrett bit his lower lip, about to chuckle...and then blinked as he realised the elf was covering her face with one hand – though the gap between two fingers allowed a green eye to peek out, he noted with some amusement – stopping herself from staring at...

_Wow_.

Isabela, busy covering her crotch with one hand and her breasts with her other, glared at Garrett and Fenris as the two men stared. "_What_?! Never seen a naked woman before!?"

"None so...womanly?" Fenris suggested, making Garrett mutedly nod in agreement, pretty sure he should be looking away at the moment. _That's a lot of_..._woman_?

"Oh for..." The pirate shifted where she stood, tilted her hips to the side...and moved her hands down to rest on her waist with a defiant look on her face. "Happy now?" Garrett swallowed, the gaze of his large eyes slowly slipping downwards... _Wow_..._Maker_, _I'm acting like Isabela_! Shaking his head, Garrett mentally slapped himself even as he forced himself to look to the woman's _face _in time to see her raise her head and shout. "Anders! I'm going to _kill_ you for this!"

The voice calling back was disembodied, Anders', yet _not_. "We have done nothing."

"Y-you need to think of yourself with clothes..." Merrill squeaked, her ears and neck red even as she kept 'shielding' her eyes. _And the others keep thinking her innocent_... Garrett shook his head in exasperation even as the elf continued. "P-please? Just...something?"

Groaning, Isabela closed her eyes, frowned...and grunted as cloth, ever so slowly, seemingly _grew_ out of her skin before slipping into place. _That was_..._a curious sight_. More curious than aroused now, Garrett noted how the usual tunic she wore moulded to her as it usually did. "So...you usually imagine yourself as naked to the world?"

The question came unbidden...and Garrett wasn't surprised by the glare she shot his way while crossing her arms over her chest. "Don't try to analyse me, or I'd start analysing the fact you're covered in armour."

Raising his hands in surrender, Garrett tried to speak as conciliatory as possible...and then hesitated. _What would Varric say_...? "Erm...because I can't pull off wearing such a tunic like you can?"

For a moment, Isabela stared at him, then, she smiled, a little laugh bubbling out of her. "Well...fair enough, tin-man."_ Ah, so that's how you do it_? Isabela's laugh was a bit polite, yet friendly at least. _Think I need to work on it though_.

"Personally, I don't think it's an improvement." Fenris grunted, giving Isabela's body a nod, making Merrill and Garrett both give him a curious look, not sure where he was going with his words.

Isabela though, was grinning, hands on her tilted hips. "Is that a compliment or an insult?"

"You decide." Was the dry response, the elf holding Isabela's gaze for a moment longer before turning to Garrett, whatever amusement had been in his eyes gone in a flash. "We should move on, it's not safe staying in this..._place_." The elf shifted his stance at that, uneasily eyeing their surroundings. It hadn't been easy, convincing the elf to enter the Fade with them...yet coin had an amazing ability to persuade even the most reluctant of men. Garrett might not like Fenris all that much, but he felt safer with the man around, and given his dislike of demons, he was a good counter-point to Merrill's all too accepting view of them. She might be good to have due to her knowledge, but one had to be wary...Garrett didn't think she could convince him to do anything foolish, but there was always a risk.

"Yes, but where...?" Garrett raised his head. "Anders? Or is this...Justice? Where are you?"

"_We_ are here, I'm Justice...Anders is too busy with the spell to speak." Was the reply, it was indeed Ander's voice, but with a dark timber to it that turned his voice from a dry rasp to something one would expect from a far larger creature. _Or a demon_... "I _cannot_ take form here, it would not be _right _to the person you are in. There is another though, one who cares not for such things, one who is foul and filthy...destroy that fiend, and set Feynriel free." A slight strain appeared in the voice. "Hurry though, it is not right for _you_ to be there either."

_That's_..._unreasonable_,_ we're trying to help him, not take over_. Garrett wasn't about to argue with a spirit of Justice though, realising how futile that would be. "We are in the Fade then? And _where_ do we hurry to?"

"You are in Feynriel's mind, _his_ part of the Fade, the part shaped by _his_ mind." _Suddenly, the scary Templar statues seem more understandable_... "As to where you'll go...go to him."

Garrett blinked. "And where's that?"

"There is no direction in the Fade, no north or south, no left or-"

A grunt, and Garrett shook his head, not about to argue when Justice had _just_ told them to hurry. "Where?"

A pause...and then there was a reluctant answer. "Forward."

"Thank you." With a growl, Garrett began to march down the corridor, his amusement of the recent situation fading as his mind once more grew focused.

_This__ time, I won't fail_.

8

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8

In a blur, they walked straight through a door, as if it had been but water..and found themselves in a chamber that looked like one of the rooms in the Chantry. Yet every candlestick, every golden symbol...it had all been enlarged to the point that the room was glittering walls of gold. On the floor, piles of coins lay, silvers, so many there was no counting them. _So...Feynriel's perception of the world_..._the Chantry represents_..._wealth_? _Can't say I'm surprised_.

In the centre of it, a simple table and chair stood. Feynriel was sitting on the chair, his delicate features facing away from the group as he moved a pile of coins from one end of the table to the other, one coin at the time, voice a low mutter, suggesting he was counting them. Standing to the side of him, a grey-haired woman in a Chantry-robe stood, smiling down at him, gaze vacant even as she let the odd coin add to the pile Feynriel had not yet counted._ And is it just me_..._or is the pile he adds to never getting any bigger_...?

Puzzled, on guard, yet not wanting to scare the poor boy, Garrett slowly sheathed his sword...yet found himself thankful Fenris didn't as he took a step forward and spoke in a low whisper. "Feynriel...?"

The boy didn't react to the sound, his movement eager and swift as he kept on counting the coins.

The priestess though...she turned to face the group, wrinkled face twisting into a little smirk. "Well...what do we have here...?" The voice was not that of an old woman, nor of _any_ woman Garrett could imagine. Yet it was still distinctly feminine, each syllable a purr from the back of her throat, full of promise...yet besides all that it was also distinctly _familiar_. "So nice to see you again..." Before them, the feature's of the old woman, even her robe..._changed_.

Garrett blinked, then drew his blade, voice a low growl. "_Dhavine_."

"The same." The demon purred, flashing pointed teeth, a pink and all too subtle tongue darting out to lick a beautiful set of lips.

Not a skeleton any more, a black pair of elegant horns curved from her forehead and back over her head, framing tendrils of dark red hair that fell all the way down to the floor. Her skin wasn't in any colour a human was capable of, but a dark purple that somehow gave her naked body a..._lustre_. Dazed, Garrett followed the way the demon languidly moved a little closer. Her curves were nearly that of Isabela's, yet somehow each one was more refined, more _perfect_...more _desirable_...each one boring into his vision, filling it until he could barely see _anything_ else. _What the_...? Shaking his head, Garrett managed to pull his gaze back to the demon's smirking face, an odd feeling of cotton in his brain fading away as he glared back. _Right, mindless desire_..._filthy_ _creature_. A look of feigned hurt swept over the demon's face, then disappeared the next moment, replaced by a wide grin. "I must thank you for releasing me from those dusty old bones, trapped in them, I would _never_ have found this _delicious_ body..."

"A mistake we can rectify." Fenris growled and took a step forward, sword raised...only to stop, something in the way the demon smirked at him freezing him mid-stride.

"Now that's not very nice...and a pointless gesture, this is _my_ domain." Dhavine's smirk moved from Fenris' blade to Garrett's, making both to reluctantly lower their weapons. _This will __be_..._complicated_. Garrett threw a glance at Feynriel...and glared back to Dhavine. _Yet I will save Beth_..._Feynriel_. Dhavine's smirk turned into a grin.

Yet a boom from up high made her amusement sour, Justice's voice loud and angry. "Creature of desire! You _lie_! This is _not_ your domain, you have _no_ right to it and must leave-!"

A snap of Dhavine's fingers, and the voice was interrupted mid-sentence, the demon's smirk returning. "What a dull spirit..." She turned her eyes back to Garrett, eyes that were like golden pits, drawing him in, making him move closer, making him want to... _NO_! Garrett pulled back, glaring at the demon's forehead as with a chuckle she spoke. "Now, let's make it easy for us. I have this boy under my complete control, your efforts are futile, so leave...and I won't..._hurt_ you." The chuckle turned into a predatory growl, yet one so soft Garrett almost found himself wanting it, _yearning_ for it, even.

Thankfully, Fenris spoke while Garrett struggled to calm himself. "I think not, _demon_."

Garrett, shaking his head, brought his thoughts into order. "You claim to have him under your control, yet he sleeps, didn't leave, we could do what we want to him in the real world." He looked back to Dhavine...and forced a grim smile as the demon's eyes momentarily narrowed. "He's not fully under your control, and you _will_ release him. If you won't, I'll go back into the real world and slay him." There was a gasp from Merrill, but Garrett held Dhavine's gaze as best he could, struggling to contain his beating heart at the panic such a thought brought up_. Not again_..._I'm not sure I could_... "Don't think I won't."

For a moment, Dhavine seemed to study him, a curious look on her face...and then she smiled, something almost pleasant in the flash of pointed teeth. "Well, I'm not unreasonable...how about a trade?" _Not bloody likely_! Garrett snorted...yet the sound caught in his throat as the demon spoke. "I know you want _gold_...your mother has spent _sooo_ much of it, hasn't she?" The look of sympathy Dhavine spared him was so genuine...he nearly believed her. "Your second expedition might not succeed...and even if it does...do you _know_ how many treasures I've learnt of throughout your ages? The number of buried chests and lost relics, just _waiting_ to be picked up?" A predatory grin. "With it, you could buy _Kirkwall_ fifteen times over...does that not...interest you?" _I_..._that's_..._a lot of money, with that, I could_... Garrett swallowed. "All you have to do is...leave." _So easy_...

Luckily, Merrill came to the rescue, the woman's dress seemingly rippling in a breeze as she took a step forward, looking pained. "Dhavine! I know this is in your nature but...helping others is in _our_ nature, please understand, we _cannot_ leave."

The demon looked to the elf, and offered a gentler smile. "I know, but as you said..." The smile turned cruel. "...I have _my_ nature."

By then though, Garrett had himself under control. Straightening and crossing his arms over his head, he shook his head, voice a growl. "_No_." Behind him, Isabela stared at him with wide eyes, obviously shocked. "You offer gold from a place I'm already invested in, trying to frighten me with failure when I've worked it all out. You offer gold from random places across Thedas, enough gold to become more trouble than an aid, gold I can make _myself_." He glared at the demon. "I don't need or _want_ your help."

Dhavine though, was smiling, gaze drawn away from him, to one behind him. "And what of you, Isabela?" _Uh oh_... "A single chest will set you up for _life_. It's so _close_...in Kirkwall, holding _all_ that you want." The pirate drew a long breath. "Freedom, a _life_, enough gold for a ship and a crew." Dhavine's smile grew wide. "The ship and crew, the one you've seen, such a _beautiful_ frigate...all lean and strong, faster than _any_ on the seas at the moment...and the crew...well you know what they look like..." A soft chuckle clucked from Dhavine's throat. "And when you have that, you can go search for the others, become the greatest – and wealthiest – pirate of them all..."

"_Isabela_..." Garrett turned, eyeing the pirate with narrowed eyes. "Don't listen to these foolish offers, you've _heard_ of our dealings with this thing in the Deep Roads, you _know_ that its promises are but empty words!"

The pirate though, was fading, taking a step back and shaking her head, looking confused.

And Dhavine's words pushed things over the edge. "Just let me have this body...and all of this will be _yours_."

Isabela stared at the demon, then at Garrett, a look of guilt flickering across her eyes...and then she shrugged. "Sorry."

The pirate disappeared.

_That stupid_..._I can't believe_..._for_ _a_ _ship_!? Garrett stared at the empty spot with open mouth.

"One down..." Looking back to the demon at the sound of her voice, Garrett found the room to have changed in the moment it took for him to blink. Now the walls were covered in bookshelves, shelves reaching so far up, it would be impossible to reach the books without anything but a ladder. By the table, Feynriel was now reading a massive tome, apparently not even having noticed the change of scenery or his actions. Nor did he react when Dhavine pushed a few fingers through his hair, smiling. "Such a curious boy, thirsting for knowledge, about his heritage, about his powers, about the world outside Kirkwall, about _everything_..." Dhavine turned her gaze to Garrett...and he felt her golden eyes bore through him like he wasn't there, digging into his soul like a needle would a fly. "...much like _you_, wouldn't you say?"

"I've already told you, I'm _not_ interested in your deals!" Garrett replied, his voice a little too high pitched for his liking.

"Not for something you can take for _yourself_, no..." Dhavine took a slow step forward, then stopped, her smirk on Garrett, ignoring the way the growling Fenris once more raised his blade. "...but knowledge...there's just so much you can gain." A little tsk escaped her. "So many years wasted, trying to survive, when all you wanted was to sit down with a good book...and even _if_ you had that time back...you could never learn all you'd wanted to know." Dhavine grinned at him...and Garrett glared back, sweat beading down his forehead despite his incorporeal shape. "Want to know exactly how it feels to be a mage, to truly understand your sister's burden? I can provide that. Want to know how dragons came about? I can tell you. _All_ the knowledge of your world...I have it, more than all the books in the world contain, _all_ I offer you...you'd be the wisest man in existence, you'd _finally_ understand everything that has _ever_ puzzled you...and all you have to do...is leave this world..."

_To know_..._to actually know_... Garrett gritted his teeth, clenching his fists tight, struggling to not focus on his desire for such a thing, to involuntarily lose his grip on the world he was in.

Fenris' growl was hostile though, and cut through Garrett's daze like a hot knife through butter. "Knowledge does _not_ make a man wise." He narrowed his hard eyes at the demon, snarling at it. "Danarius would say it does, and he's a _fool_."

Garrett, taking a deep breath, tried to imagine himself knowing everything.

He couldn't.

Nor could he imagine knowing the content of every book, to never have to read another, to never _need_ to...to never feel the touch of the paper or the delight of some new nugget of wisdom or revelation.

"I...don't want that." Garrett shook his head, taking another deep breath, not quite able to bring himself to look at Dhavine. "The journey is half the pleasure when it comes to knowledge. If I'm _given_ all of it...what's the point? Plus, I suspect, all the knowledge in the world would make me quite mad..." He dared a glance at the demon, and saw a flicker of a grin. "...wouldn't it?"

"Then perhaps something smaller..." Dhavine suggested...and turned her head. "Like all the lost knowledge of the Dalish? The power they wielded? The magics they used? The way back to the old way, rediscovered, opening a path for a new era for their people..."

_No_. Garrett turned, looking to Merrill with more fear than he had with Isabela, the idea of the elf being tricked like she'd been in the Deep Roads all too real. "Don't listen." He growled the order, not sure if it would help or not...Merrill was extremely good at acting like she'd heard an order and then acting on her own volition. "You _know_ demons, you know _this_ demon...she could have offered this at any point during your talks, yet didn't, _why_?" He shook his head. "It's just a way to make you leave, to _trick_ you into leaving." He turned, pointing to Feynriel, knowing that might be more effective. "Think of Feynriel! You can't leave him here!"

"One life – born by someone that betrayed her heritage – for the future of your _entire_ people...a small price, wouldn't you say?" Dhavine purred, looking pleased with herself as Merrill bit her bottom lip. "I won't even kill him, you know that. Just leave, let me have this body, and I'll get you what you desire most, what we _both_ desire..." A small grin. "The lives of _thousands_, an entire _culture_...saved from death...by _you_..."

"I...I'm..." Merrill bit her lip until blood flowed...and the flowers in her hair wilted and turned to ash as she turned tearful eyes to Garrett. "...I'm sorry."

"Merrill...no." Garrett took a step closer, fist closing in frustration a with his eyes he implored her to stay, to _think_.

She just shook her head though, a tear trickling down her cheek as her voice turned distant. "I'm so sorry."

With that, she disappeared.

_No_...

Gritting his teeth and clenching his fists until it hurt, Garrett's ears rang with Dhavine's chuckle as he turned...

And found the room changed once more. This time, there were practice-dummies all around, that and great torches and swords hanging from the walls...and Feynriel, still sitting by the table, was juggling a small fireball between his hands, looking focused, yet smiling ever so softly.

"He likes his magic...he hates it, fears it...yet he likes it..." Dhavine purred, a hand on Feynriel's shoulder as she grinned at him. "He wants more of it, to save himself, his mother, to _make_ people stop hunting him, to determine his own fate..." A low chuckle. "Much like _yourself_..." Garrett groaned, frustrated and frightened with the way the demon was digging into his heart with her silky words. "...I understand now."

"You understand _nothing_." Garrett growled, but it was a poor attempt at sounding confident.

"You want the gold to buy your family and yourself _security_, to _know_ they're safe...you want the gold for the _power_ it brings..." Dhavine chuckled at him, watching him take a step back with obvious amusement. "It's a heavy burden, but in your heart, you _want_ to be the leader, to be in _charge_, to be in _control_." She grinned at the way he opened his mouth to protest, but with no words escaping him. "Did you think I would not see this? _Anyone_ can see it, if they look close enough."

"I told you..." Garrett grunted...each word difficult to say, his posture rigid. "...no."

"Oh? You want the power to _change_ things...you _loathe_ the way the Templars run Kirkwall, don't you? You've seen the dark side of Kirkwall in all its gory glory, and you _despise_ the waste, you've _never_ liked such pointlessness. You even dislike the Viscount for his pathetic rule, the one supposed to steer the ship, letting go of the rudder..." Dhavine took another step forward, grinning. "You would make a _far_ better Viscount...you'd bring the Templars to heel, make the city _grand_ again..." She paused, cocking her head to the side with a smirk. "...you could even go further, unite the disparate Free Cities under one banner, create something _more_ than the morass of inefficiency and selfishness it now is...something..._effective_..._your highness_."

Garrett, standing perfectly still, felt his vision flicker, as if he was seeing part of the real world again...and then shook his head, clearing it as he growled back. "I...I..." He turned his gaze to Feynriel...and somehow the blonde little man turned into a young woman, her dark hair cascading behind her back as she struggled with her very first spell.

_Bethany_...

Smiling, Garrett took a deep breath and looked Dhavine in the eyes. "No." He shook his head as the demon's eyes smouldered in anger. "I will not abandon Feynriel, he will _not_ be yours." _Arianni should not have to feel such grief, no one should_...

"And what of you?" Dhavine nearly spat the words at Fenris, but then her features smoothed, her tone turning once more into the seductive purr. "Power comes in many shapes...the power to brush aside magic like nothing, power to wield the greatest weapon, to kill armies on your own, armies that stand between you and your target, a target unable to hide from your powerful sight..."

Garrett laughed, shaking his head. "That will not work, Fenris knows _all_ of you demons and your tricks, he will not-"

"You...mean I could..." Fenris' mutter made Garrett turn still, his head turning to stare at the elf in shock. _You_..._you can't be serious_. Yet the elf had an intense look on his face as he stared at the demon, a fire Garrett had never seen suddenly burning bright in his eyes. "I could..."

"Yes, after _years_ of fleeing, of being hunted..._you_ would become the hunter." Dhavine grinned. "All that pain, all that humiliation...gone with a swing of your sword. You'd finally be free from those bonds that still hold you, truly taste _life_...as well as Danarius' blood."

"Fenris..." Garrett finally managed to speak, still stunned. "...you can't-"

Without even glancing at him, without even saying anything, the elf disappeared.

And Garrett just stared at where he'd been, too stunned for words. _Of all those I brought_..._how could the offer of a single kill make __him__ forget what he's dealing with_...?

"And so we are alone..." Garrett turned his head...and blinked, surprised by the change of scenery, despite it having happened so before.

Feynriel was still sitting by his table in the centre of the room, yet now he simply had his hands on the table, not doing anything and frowning ever so slightly in confusion. Yet the room itself...the bed at the far side was wide but with simple white sheets, large cushions and a wooden headboard decorated with carvings of running Mabari. The cupboards at the side, the bookshelves...all of it made Garrett frown in surprise. _This is_..._my_ _bedroom_?

Dhavine was approaching him more boldly now, smirking, like a cat with the canary practically in its paws. "I'm impressed, not many would be willing to forswear gold, knowledge and power like you...but I understand, you can create all of that on your own." She smiled ever so softly, suddenly inches from him, hand moving up to stroke through his hair...and Garrett found himself frozen to the spot, unable to move away. "But can you create...love?" Garrett gritted his teeth, a pang in his chest making him struggle to remain upright. Dhavine, knowing she'd struck right, smiled more broadly. "You have been alone, for _so_ long...your father told you to protect your family, to look after them...but he never told you to look after _yourself_, did he?" A slow shake of her head. "A sad oversight."

"I don't..." Garrett swallowed, trying to step back, yet finding himself unable to.

"Oh I know, a demon is hardly the right companion..." Dhavine smirked...and suddenly Garrett was standing face to face with Aveline, a very _naked_ Aveline. A lump rose up his throat, though his eyes remained glued to the woman's face as her mouth curled into a distinctly non-Aveline smile. "...but someone else might? I can make it happen...for so long, you've had no time for her, never mind to court her...are you sure she would say yes though?" Garrett winced. "I'm not either, you're not very...charming, and you know it." Dhavine leant closer, but it was Aveline's breath that brushed against him, her whisper reaching his ear. "I can make it happen though..._guarantee_ your success."

Within Garrett, something rebelled, making him take a step back. "I...that's not..." _Aveline's not like that, to just bend that strong will, to make her._.._no_...

Aveline's face turned back into Dhavine's with a blink of an eye, a smirk on her lips. "Or perhaps you'd want something else? Maybe something more..."

Dhavine begun to change...and Garrett grabbed her wrist, stopping and reversing the transformation as with a reddened face he shook his head. "Stop it! I don't...I don't want any of this! Just...just stop it! You can't force someone to love you! You can't make emotions! That makes it meaningless! Artificial and shallow! A forced emotion is a _worthless_ one!"

Dhavine smiled at him, then glanced down at his hand holding her wrist...and Garrett pulled back in horror, his skin on fire from the contact, his entire being seemingly blushing as the desire emanating from her being gripped him. Growling as he struggled to suppress the raw emotion, he barely heard the demon's next words. "Perhaps then, the answer lies closer to your heart? Like say...your brother?"

"Wh-what?" Garrett blinked, confused.

And Dhavine purred in pleasure as she slid around him, a thin tail pushing out from underneath her thick hair and languidly sliding across his breastplate. "Oh come now, it hasn't escaped you how far apart you've fallen...a gap widening with every day..." Before Garrett, Carver suddenly appeared in his old leather armour, the man grinning back at him, but otherwise unmoving. "...remember how close you were when you were children? Yet all that struggling for survival, to protect Bethany, it chipped away at the love and closeness, didn't it? And now it's getting ever worse..." Dhavine moved closer, her breath brushing his ear. "I can bring him back to you, make the family whole again."

Garrett swallowed. "I-it can never-"

"Oh yes, because of your sister..." Dhavine's purr revealed her smirk...and Garrett whimpered as the woman appeared next to Carver, a soft – almost sad – smile on her face. "...she's in the Fade still, you know, a little soul, all alone.."

Garrett's mouth went dry. "Y-you lie..."

"I do not. I could find it, bring her back, like Justice did your Anders." A little chuckle. "Only...better." Garrett felt a lone tear trickle down his cheek, unable to take his eyes off his smiling siblings. "She wouldn't remember a thing, you'd make up a story, and she would bring back the heart your family had been missing, mend the rift within it." Dhavine's breath was so close, he could nearly feel her lips brush his ear. "Carver would be overjoyed, he grieved her so much, and with a little nudge...he'd come to love you again as well..."

Garrett, trembling, squeezed his eyes shut, the tears flowing despite all efforts to hold them back.

"All you have to do, is leave...you've made others die to protect your family before, haven't you? What's different this time?" _Yes_... "You'd get your sister back, your brother back. Safe in your mansion, they'd live the life they'd deserve." _Yes_... "Mother would forgive you, Carver would forgive you, you'd be _loved_ again...and together, you would all find _peace_..." Yes! "...and _love_."

"_No_..."

It was but a whisper, yet Garrett felt the demon take a step back at it, purr lost, voice tinged with confusion. "What?"

"Again, you offer love, _artificial_ love." Garrett spun to face her, his tears making his vision blurry even as he glared at the demon. "You offer something that isn't there! You offer a sister that is _DEAD_! You offer a brother whose very essence revolves around _not_ doing as he's told! You offer something that _can't_ be done! Something that _shouldn't_ be done!"

Dhavine stared at him, speechless.

He shook a finger at the demon, blinking away the tears as he roared out his accusation. "You lie! Your _offer_ is a lie! You cannot undo what's been done! You can't take away the pain!" He advanced, screaming at the demon's face. "**You can't make me live a lie**!"

Dhavine stared back at him...and then her eyes narrowed, a low growl escaping her.

"Nor me."

Garrett and demon alike looked up in surprise, finding Feynriel rising from his chair, his feet looked unsteady, as if he'd just woke up from a long sleep, yet his eyes were clear, fixed on the demon. "This fairy-tale you've tried to give me...it's what I want..." Feynriel shook his head, a sad look in his eyes. "...but not what I have." A sigh. "I want my mother back, my _real_ one, I want...struggles you can't offer, a _reality_ you can't offer."

Silence descended.

Then Feynriel shook his head, a low growl escaping him. "Get out of my head."

And Dhavine's features blurred, the demon's eyes glowing red as she turned her fading face to Garrett, voice a low hiss. "I will have _vengeance_ for this...one day..."

Garrett, exhausted, managed a grim smile back. "Maybe, but not today."

A flash of white...and the demon was gone.

Garrett turned to look to Feynriel...

...and awoke, back in the real world, in Anders' clinic. Anders and Arianni looked down at him with concern, Merrill with guilt...and the others were gone. _Why am I not surprised_...? "Did you make it...?" Arianni asked, voice a low whimper as she clutched her hands together.

From another room, a groan reached their ears, making Arianni's eyes widen.

Garrett managed a tired smile, his voice a croak. "Ask him yourself..."

In an instant, Arianni was gone, rushing for her son.

Meanwhile, Anders was offering a cup of water, his voice low, worried. "You look...was it hard?"

_Bethany_...

Staring down at his feet, Garrett took the cup. "You have no idea..."

In the next room, someone was sobbing, but it was a sob of relief and happiness.

…_but it was the right call_.

8

8

8

_Thank you to Abydos Jackson, for all her generosity._


	41. Chapter 41

Grumbling, wet from the spring autumn rain that had passed by in a matter of minutes – just as he'd left the Kirkwall Keep, of course – Garrett marched up the few steps it took to reach the mezzanine of his mansion, too wet and tired to marvel at the fact that what was essentially a _palace_ was now his home.

By now, the shock of the change their life had undergone was starting to fade, even for him, who had – in contrast to Leandra and Gamlen – never known such wealth to start with. Although, that shock had never truly gripped him, except for a few moments of calm he'd managed to steal away at times. Mostly, his attention had been focused on anything but coming to terms with – and maybe even enjoying – his new wealth though.

He was, as a noble, required to go to the council, and while it seemed many didn't do this, Garrett was not one to shy away from his duties, and even saw these councils as an opportunity. Yet the reality of it had been...jarring so far. There was nearly no governing, no decisions being made. There was _bickering_, and _selfishness_, a weak Viscount and a looming Templar presence...but little actually being done. Garrett had found it all more and more frustrating, even as the feeling of being judged by every noble in the council, as well as by the Templar's representatives – all curious of the newcomer – wore on him like an ill-fitting collar.

There had been the paranoia of _losing_ the wealth. All those investments, all those expenditures...Garrett had winced at every one, knowing he had to make them if he was going to succeed in upholding his new standard of living. The idea of _failing_, however...it _gnawed_ on him, for if he _did_...he was fairly sure Leandra wouldn't be able to cope with that, his mother already having gone through enough as it were.

That was one of the reasons why he let her have the run of the palace. It was expensive, but it kept her _happy_...it kept her busy, made her feel at _home_ again, something she truly needed.

The second reason was sadder.

After the initial screaming, the blaming and the tears after Garrett's revelation about Bethany, things had eventually simmered down. In fact, Leandra was now as friendly and happy as she was before with him, yet it felt...forced. Every time she looked at him, it was with a hint of something else underneath her eyes, like a demand that he'd make things up to her. And while he was _trying_ to do just that, that _look_...it was hard to bear it when he already blamed himself enough as it was. Hell, he couldn't blame her for wanting to put the vase with Bethany's ashes on a pedestal right in the main hall...but the way she had looked at him when suggesting it...it had broken his heart.

In a way, Garrett almost preferred Carver's outright bitterness than Leandra's wounded love. Hell, Gamlen might have gotten over Bethany's death far too easily in Garrett's opinion, but at least that meant the man treated Garrett as he always had...even though that largely meant treating him as a walking bank.

_I miss Bethany, her love, the love she inspired_...

Not that Carver had made things any easier. Even though the hurt in Leandra's eyes was hard to bear, it was a silent kind of suffering, a slight tension. Yet Carver...he had never been one to be silent, one who expressed himself quietly...and had again and again torn that silence asunder, made mother cry and Gamlen to drink even more as Garrett silently despaired, wanting nothing but to run away. But Garrett hadn't done that, he _couldn't_ do that, not when he was the head of the household. So he talked to Carver, again and again, trying to speak to a man who after his outburst had turned into a wall, refusing to speak in anything but clipped words...a state practically the usual mood for him now.

Not that Garrett saw much of the man now, with his constant trips to every bar in town.

It...hurt.

And recently, to add insult to the injury, he'd been betrayed by three of his companions in the fade, one of which he'd even considered a friend, and another two where he was at least trying.

That hurt too, more so than he'd expected.

He _had_ saved Feynriel though, and though the trial he'd gone through to do so had been hard on him...it had brought him more satisfaction than anything he'd done – considering the successful expedition was forever tainted by Bethany's blood – since arriving at Kirkwall.

It made the death of Bethany linger on his conscience just a little less. Not by much, but it was a welcome reprieve none the less.

Not that he felt that right now, being wet and cold, not to mention grouchy from hours of pointless speeches.

Crossing the mezzanine, he watched the two guards by the door knock a fist against their chest in salute. The woman's nose was red from the cold imposed by the sudden rain, and the man looked like he'd been caught mid-yawn. _Bet they're close to the end of their shift_. "Jeannie, Darren." Garrett offered them each a nod, somewhat puzzled by the way they straightened at the mention of their name. Garrett _had_ asked Varric why his guards and servants kept doing that when he greeted them by name, yet the dwarf's only answer had been a long laugh. _Peculiar_... "You two look cold, I'll see if I can get something hot sent your way."

Without waiting for a surprised-looking Jeannie to open the door for him – Garrett found such actions of his guards and servants somewhat superfluous, much to the chagrin of some of the more traditionalist servants, he'd heard – the man pushed the door to his home open as Darren managed to speak up. "Th-thank you, Ser."

Inside, it was warmer, and Garrett grimaced at the way the brown coat wrapped around him dripped water all over the spotless floors. The servant in the cloakroom – no doubt they'd spotted Garrett coming and sent him running – was instantly by Garrett's side, his elven nose twitching somewhat at the smell of wet dog as he moved around Garrett and reached for his coat. "Thank you, Fenn." Garrett pulled his arms back, letting the elf pull the coat off, as he did so, Garrett glanced down at Maric, the dog giving him an expectant look, water dripping from his fur. "Oh fine, but in the corner." A little woof, and Maric trotted over to the far corner of the room before shaking violently, sending water spraying in all directions and making the servant sigh as he struggled to carry the wet and heavy cloak over to the wardrobes at the other end of the room. "Sorry, Fenn, but you know how he hates the towel."

Barely had the elf put his coat into its place – well away from the other clothes – before he with a bow to Garrett and a cold look at Maric, hurriedly moved on to whatever job the master of servants had him on. _Amazing how busy the servants always are, then again, this is a large house, still feels odd never having to clean it or doing dishes_... Looking at the doorway through which Fenn had escaped, Garrett couldn't help but spot the pedestal far off in the next room, flanked by the two stairs leading up to the gallery above, a pedestal upon the green vase containing Bethany's ashes stood. _Maker, sorry, Bethany, but I hate seeing you the moment I enter my home, it makes me __feel_..._not_ _welcome_...

Barely had the elf escaped before Bastile stepped through the doorway, interrupting Garrett's line of thoughts. Grateful for that, Garrett offered the grim-looking man a smile, making the usually hardness in the man's grey eyes fade somewhat. "Ah, good day to you, Bastile, how is my master at arms?" Frowning in sudden thought, Garrett hesitated. "Is it time for our practice already?" The idea of _not_ using a chevalier to train him to become better – like some Kirkwall nobles seemed to waste the service of their own master at arms – was one Garrett couldn't comprehend, especially considering wealth could be such a fleeting thing...skills, those he retained and could make use of. _One never knows what the future brings, best be prepared_..._even though the beating received learning more in this area is a tad_..._much_..._serves me right for asking him not to go easy on me, but to be as hard as he would be on another chevalier in training_. Not that Garrett was about to change his mind, the bruises would become fewer as he learnt, in time. "I didn't think I was gone for _that_ long."

"I'm well, Serah, and no, not for a few hours." The man offered a curt bow of the head. "I was on my way to check on the guards."

"Ah, very well." Garrett stepped away from the door. The story of how the ex-chevalier had lost his title wasn't something Garrett was about to pry into, but judging by his limp and the bitterness in his eyes, it wasn't a good one. Orlesian politics were as likely a culprit as battle. "Maybe have them send some warmed wine? They look cold, and being cold makes one inattentive." Garrett knew that well from his time under Athenril's rule.

Bastile slowed at that, hand on the handle of the door. "As...you say, Serah." Judging by his tone, he disapproved, but not enough to speak up, as he did if it was something he felt strongly about. _Good, I've had just enough of arguing for one day_...

Gesturing for Maric to head for the kitchen for his promised treat – the hound had been exceedingly well-behaved while in the council, not that Garrett was surprised by that – Garrett offered Bastile a final nod before walking into the main chamber.

The spacious hall was large enough to act as a ballroom, the twin stairs leading up to the gallery above a clever way to divide living areas to those of a more practical nature. With the high ceiling – the crystal chandelier now in place – as well as the fine paintings and other decorations, it was a truly beautiful room to be in, even though one mostly used it to get to other rooms. Leandra had argued for the beautification of the room above all others, stressing the need to make a good impression to any guests they might have. Garrett found the reasoning sound, and wasn't about to argue with his mother, and as such had assented to it.

He wasn't about to stop and admire the scenery though, he'd done so to every painting in the room already, and his fingers were itching... _I have a few hours, I should take the opportunity to __finally__ see to my library_. The thought nearly drew a smile to Garrett's lips as he turned to the left, heading for the nearest door with eager steps. He hadn't seen a reason to put the library among the living rooms, not when he intended to add more books in the future.

He didn't get far though, as Bodahn appeared through another door and headed to intercept him. Stopping, Garrett inwardly sighed...only to notice Bodahn's smile and cocked his head to the side. "Bodahn, I didn't know you were here, how goes it with our merchants?" Garrett's efforts in sponsoring minor merchants to make money through them was so far small, considering his investments in the second expedition, yet it still was the seed for future profits, and Garrett was eager for some good news.

"Good, good, getting some nice returns already." Bodahn nodded impatiently, then grimaced. "Though if you want some profits large enough to really affect our economy..."

"More investments, I know." Garrett sighed, he knew that was to be expected, yet the idea of his work so far only paying in coppers when he needed gold wasn't the encouragement he needed. "That'll have to wait, as you know..."

Bodahn grimaced, the dwarf wasn't exactly in Garrett's hire, but rather an ally. Yet with Garrett being the money and Bodahn claiming he owed the human, their alliance was clearly not that of equals. The dwarf seemed to enjoy his new role as Garrett's agent though, perhaps because Garrett had offered him fairly loose reins and to make use of his son, and took on his job with gusto. "Oh I know, Serah, I've looked over the books, same as you." His grimace turned into a grin in the blink of an eye though. "Which is why _this_ is such good news, arrived this morning with a messenger who rode ahead." He held up a letter, an _opened_ letter, to Garrett. "Sorry, I just had to read it, it's from the expedition."_ I might give you loose reins, but opening my mail_... Garrett took the letter, but refused to read it, instead he gave Bodahn a _look_, the look he usually reserved for Bethany or Carver when he was chastising them. The dwarf blinked. "Err...sorry." Garrett kept looking at him. "I...it won't happen again."

"Good, then all's forgiven." Garrett turned to the letter, looking at the short text and pretending not to notice Bodahn's relieved sigh. "Thaig reached. Heavier resistance than anticipated, moderate casualties. Thaig ours. Loading up cargo and returning home." He grimaced at the short words, well aware he should have expected something like that from a Fereldian who could barely spell. Yet while the dwarven experts on the expedition had disliked it, Garrett had been very clear on that man being the one in charge of the expedition. With so many mercenaries in it, they needed a _warrior_ to keep up discipline and obedience, not an engineer. _Still, I told him to give me precise figures_..._ah_ _well_. Too relieved to care about such minor infractions, Garrett felt himself sigh in relief, one of the weights on his shoulders seemingly slipping off. "This is...great news indeed."

"Yes, see, didn't I say everything would work out alright in the end?" Bodahn offered a reassuring smile and patted Garrett's wrist. "Once the expedition returns, I can take an account over how much might remain so we can send a cheaper one down there, the profits will still be great, so we can expand our work here in Kirkwall...your position is secure, Serah."

Garrett offered a pale smile at that, remembering the suddenness with which Bethany's death had struck him. "I'll believe that when I have the money in my hand, but thank you." He handed the letter back to Bodahn. "I trust you to handle the reception of them. If the mercenaries look grouchy after their losses. You are allowed to offer them a bonus, I'd like us to part with them on good terms."_ Varric was on to something with that, if I want to hire them again, it's best they make more than reluctant allies_.

"Of course, Serah." Bodahn grinned, nearly jumping where he stood. "Oh, so much to prepare! I better get going!" Not even remembering to say good bye, the dwarf headed for the exit, a bounce in his steps.

_Ah, this day is looking better already_... Garrett, the sour mood he was in when entering his home forgotten, took another step towards the door to the library, more eager than before to sit down and let the new events sink in while enjoying a good read.

Only to hold back a groan as Leandra's voice brought him to a halt._ Looks like I won't get any reading done_..._again_..._what's the point of a library if you never get to be in it_? Forcing a patient smile, he turned to the voice, spotting his mother coming down the nearest stairs with a big grin on her face and eyes sparkling with excitement. "Son, I have the greatest news!" As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she cast Bethany's ashes a glance, the sparkle in her eyes dying in time for her to look back to Garrett, making him inwardly wince even as she continued to grin at him. "We've been invited to the party!"

"A party?" Garrett blinked. _I've_..._never been big on festivities_..._ah well, just another thing to do, I suppose, can't disappoint mother, and it might be expected of me to show up, I suspect_.

"Not _a_ party, _the_ party." Leandra corrected, touching Garrett's shoulder fleetingly with a head cocked to the side. Noticing Garrett's blank look, she rolled her eyes, but continued to grin. "The Reinhart's party! They have one every six months or so, to welcome either winter or summer." _I_..._was supposed to know that_? Garrett forced himself not to ask that though, well aware his mother was too caught up in memories to think about that, as Leandra continued. "Everyone's invited. Major and minor nobles, officials, anyone of proper rank." She brought her fists up to her chin while still grinning, looking every bit of an excited girl, despite her age. "And _we're_ invited!" Garrett blinked, the implications sinking in. "Don't you understand what this means!?"

"I do, the invitation means the Reinhart's – one of the dominating noble families – is socially accepting us as part of nobility, which probably means the others will follow suit." Garrett nodded, not letting himself be _too_ bothered by Leandra's pout over his somewhat droll way of summarizing the situation. "This is good, _very_ good...we must attend." _Not like you'll offer a choice_. Garrett stroked his chin, frowning. "Getting some time alone with various nobles would actually be useful too, at those meetings in the keep it's hard to make any deals. Between the Chantry scribe and all the others listening in...no, you don't want to hear it, sorry." He shook his head, then smiled at his mother. "What's important is that this is an opportunity for us, which we should grasp."

"Exactly, son." Leandra grinned at him for a moment, then got something soft in her eyes as she looked at him, hands moving up to touch his shoulders. "You're so handsome in red, you should wear more of it." Garrett grimaced, but patiently bore his mother's scrutiny of his black and red doublet. It was just clothes to him, clothes befitting a noble, but clothes none the less. _When did mother start caring about how we dressed anyway_..._foolish question, Garrett_. "Yes, some reversing of the colours, maybe...I'll have to go to the seamstress right away tomorrow to get some samples." She glanced at his face, shaking her head. "And do remember to shave before the party, I can't believe you go to the council meetings with stubble like some dockworker."

Garrett self-consciously touched his chin, his habit of forgetting to shave wasn't new to him, but nowadays Leandra was understandably less tolerant of it. "I shall...when is it?"

"In three months."

"They invited us to a party that's not for another three months?" Garrett blinked.

Leandra shook her head at him. "It works differently in this world, don't worry, I'll lead you through it...we'll have so much fun."

_Unlikely, at least for me. I've met the Reinhart husband, he's the most selfish noble of them all...still, might present good opportunities to do business with him and others_. "I'm sure we will, mother."

For a moment, Leandra just stood there, smiling at him – though as usual, the smile no longer reached her eyes – then she glanced past his shoulder and her smile turned a little more genuine. "Oh but I'm sorry, I see you finally wanted to get some reading done. Well I won't keep you, I know how much you've looked forward to using the library."

"Thank you, mother." Garrett leant forward, kissing Leandra on the cheek, a gesture she politely returned before they both turned away, Garrett towards the library and Leandra – by the looks of it – towards the kitchen._ I hope she doesn't try to boss the chef around again, it's not really helpful_... The worry weighed light against his eagerness to finally sit down though, so Garrett didn't hesitate in moving towards the library, steps fast to stop any further interruptions, the man nearly tackling his way through the door.

The library wasn't set in an overly larger room, but it still allowed two dozen shelves, half of which were packed with books while the rest had room to grow and as such sported a few decorative candlesticks and saucers as well as the books. With wooden floors and walls, a fireplace that saw little use save on the coldest days in winter, a couple of chairs covered in green cushions, a small mahogany table to put any drinks and current reading material on, as well as a few green rugs on the floor, it was without a doubt the most homely place in Garrett's home...and as such the one place he truly felt comfortable in so far.

Steps suddenly slow, Garrett took a deep breath and felt his shoulders slump, the slight smell of books and wood holding a soothing quality, making the stress run off one like water._ I'm going to enjoy this_... Garrett, not even looking, picked a book at random and moved to the chair closest to the far corner of the room. _You look comfortable_. Like all others, the chair was of wicker cleverly braided together, and every part of the arm- and backrest looked inviting even without the thick cushions covering most of the inside.

Putting down the book on the table next to the chair, Garrett turned around, put his hands on the armrests and slowly lowered himself into the chair. Unable to hide his satisfaction, he found his mouth opening at the feel of it. "Ahhhh..." Leaning back into it, he picked up the book, smiling at it. "...this is just what I-"

Before him, the door shot open.

_Oh for_... Growling, Garrett put the book aside and jumped to his feet, only a moment later realising who had pushed the door open. "Merrill!?"

Behind the upset-looking elf, a pair of guards came running, looking angry...and then all colour drained from their faces as they saw Garrett's face. "Err...Serah, we...err...she kind of just ran right-"

"Darren, Jeannie, it's okay." Garrett raised a hand to stop their excuse. "I did say she was welcome, did I not?" The two guards exchanged a sheepish look. "Do try to be better at your job though...people shouldn't be able to run past you." The sheepish look turned shamed. "Dismissed."

With that, Garrett marched forward, making sure to ignore Merrill's eyes as he walked past her and closed the door behind her.

Silence.

Garrett stood perfectly still, looking at the door, putting his thoughts in order.

Only once he was done, he turned to face the elf, keeping his tone cold. "What is it?"

The elf though, didn't flinch away from either his tone, nor the cool look her shot her. Instead she took a step closer, looking distraught. "I'm so sorry! I...I _knew_ I shouldn't have abandoned you like that! Not when I _knew_ what Dhavine was trying to do!"

_And the only one coming to apologise is Merrill, what a surprise_... Garrett grumbled, yet the fact Merrill was the only one coming to do that didn't mean he was about to forgive. "Yet you did. You left me to struggle with a demon, risking the life of a young boy." The thought of it...Garrett felt his hand curl into an angry fist. "I thought you valued life more than that, or at least, that's the impression I've been given, perhaps I was wrong in this?"

"I _do_! I...it's just that..." Merrill took a step back, finally noticing the cool look in his eyes, and it made her visibly shrink in stature, looking up at him as a puppy having done something bad would do. It was admittedly cute, but Garrett refused to soften before her big eyes. "Y-you know how persuasive she is, how she gets into your brain..." _I_..._yes_. Garrett shifted where he stood, uncomfortable with the reminder of how...accurate Dhavine had been in guessing his desires. "...I...wasn't as prepared for that as I thought I was. I thought I would just have to protect you, since the spell was focused on you, I didn't...I didn't realise I could also be targeted..."

_That's_..._a fair excuse_. Garrett grimaced, not liking the turn the conversation was taking. "You still left me, could well have gotten me killed. And for what? An offer the demon would likely never had held?"

"She...she probably would have..." _Probably_? Merrill looked unsure, but then shrugged her head, turning more sure of herself. "She _would_ have, it too is in her nature, yet...that is no excuse, I shouldn't have done what I did."

"Well...no." Garrett, somewhat annoyed with how the elf was simply agreeing with him, crossed his arms over his chest. "I understand your want to save your people and make them great again, I even admire it, but to agree to sacrifice a young boy for it...it's not _you_." He shifted where he stood. "Do you understand that this concerns me? That _you_ might be so easily tricked by a demon? Given what you are?"

"I...do..." Merrill bit her bottom lip, but then straightened, holding her chin up. "But in the real world, I'm not like that, I know what I'm doing." _You sure about that_...? "Besides, I'm willing to sacrifice my _own_ life if it would save my people, so Dhavine probably took that in the fade and...changed it..."

"Self-sacrifice is not _close_ to the sacrifice of another." Garrett snapped, then shook his head, glaring down at Merrill. "And I can't help but remember Dhavine speaking of the boy when trying to convince you...did him not being an elf work in convincing you he could be sacrificed...?"

"I...that's...I..." Merrill took a step back, then another, tears forming in the corner of her eyes. "...I think it _must_ have, given how she spoke of it." She grimaced. "I'm not proud of it! I didn't...I _don't_ think like that, not in real life! B-but...there are ideas that...linger among the Dalish, and I'm sure they linger in me too." She shook her head. "I'm trying to better myself though. I know such thoughts aren't right. I love all life and hate discrimination! I see it every day!" Another shake of her head, her shoulders slumping as she looked away. "It's just...hard." Looking down at her feet, she hugged herself. "I'm sure you know of many humans openly thinking even worse things of elves..." _Oh_. "...it's in our cultures, and it's hard to just...cast it aside..." _I_..._yes_. Garrett, suddenly feeling uncomfortable and a bit guilty, shifted where he stood. "I'm...all I can do is to be aware of it and think on it, knowing that I might not be perfect, but that I don't _really_ think like that...do you understand?"

Garrett, annoyed with how she'd struck at something of a sore spot in his own character, grimaced as he looked away. "I...suppose I can understand that."

"R-really?" He felt Merrill's eyes on him, full of hope.

"Yes..." Garrett sighed, rubbing his eyes. "And I _suppose_ it makes sense that you weren't prepared to defend yourself, but only me, and I'm..._aware_ that Dhavine was perceptive and convincing like no mortal could be..."

"Y-you do...?" Merrill's voice was now filled with hope...and Garrett found himself annoyed and amused by that in equal measure by that.

Garrett, still looking away, gritted his teeth, struggling to hold on to his reluctance. "_Yes_..."

"So...so you forgive me?"

Looking back to Merrill, Garret found his arms dropping to his side as a sigh escaped him. The elf's big eyes looked up at him with so much hope, fear and guilt...he didn't even know eyes were _capable_ of such a vivid show of emotions. "I...suppose I do, yes."

A little squeal escaped Merrill, the elf launching herself at him, small arms wrapping tight around her waist as she buried her face in his chest, the impact nearly knocking his breath away. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

_Err_...

Awkward, not really used to shows of affection, at least outside the family, Garrett tentatively put his hands down on her shoulders, unsure where he otherwise should put them. "You're welcome?"

Merrill didn't answer, nor let go, she simply kept her face in his chest as she hugged him with surprisingly strong arms, a pleased sound escaping from her, though it didn't seem to be words.

_Right_..._I_..._okay_...

Carefully, Garrett moved the hands a little further down, tentatively putting them on Merrill's shoulder blades as he tried to think of something to say._ Varric would probably have said something like_... "Still not paying you though."

A laugh escaped the elf pressed against him, a laugh and a suppressed sniffle of relief. "I don't care."

The answer made Garrett smile.

Then, as she reluctantly pulled back, a smile on her face, Merrill looked past Garrett's shoulder...and her jaw dropped, eyes somehow turning even _larger_. "I...didn't even notice...look at all the _books_!" She pulled back even further, head turning left and right, jaw still hanging open. "It's _amazing_! Where did you get all of them!? How!? There's enough to fill an Aravel! There's...why didn't you show this during the tour!?"

"It wasn't furnished by then." Garrett replied, finding himself still smiling. "I only just got it finished, though I haven't read anything in it yet, sadly." He inched towards a bookcase, leaning his shoulder on it as he crossed his arms over his chest, watching Merrill move to the one closest to the door. "I know you like learning things, but I thought Dalish traditions were mostly oral...?"

"They _are_! But that doesn't mean I can't _love_ written knowledge!" Merrill reached for the nearest book, then stopped herself, looking a little unsure for a moment, before simply turning her head, staring at the other bookcases, clearly overcome. "There's _sooo_ much here...I..._you_ could sit here for days and never finish them all."

Garrett smiled at the slight mistake in Merrill's sentence, a mistake colouring her neck red even as she continued to stare around herself in wonder. _I suppose she could_... "Would you like to come here and visit at times, perhaps? To read?"

Merrill whirled to face him, eyes alight with delight. "Could I!? Could I really?"

"Of course." Garrett smiled back. _With none left in the family who enjoys this, none to sit with and study alongside with_..._no, don't think about it_. "I'd welcome the company."

Again, Merrill launched herself at him...only to stop mid-stride as a shriek cut through the room.

_Mother_! Roughly shoving Merrill aside, Garrett pushed through the doorway and entered the main hall in time to see the woman run down the stairs towards him. "Garrett! I...Carver's things aren't in his room!"

"_What_!?"

8

8

8

"Carver!"

Garrett, having run the whole way, found himself out of breath as he came to a halt in the Gallows courtyard.

The walls to the Gallows were high but thin, more intent to keep people from leaving and entering at will than to defend the Circle Tower. Yet it was still an intimidating sight to have them all around you, patrolled by Templars while yet more filled the courtyard as they walked here and there in errands. The Circle Tower itself was a tougher construct, thick and imposing, a keep for the Tevinters that had once owned it. Only the fact that it was so high and sported the odd spire revealed that it wasn't just for defensive purposes.

All of that was barely registered by Garrett, his gaze fixed on his brother, a brother flanked by a pair of Templars as he headed towards the keep. The man flinched at the sound of his name, yet kept moving. "_CARVER_!" Suddenly angry rather than worried, Garrett marched forward, hands clenching into fists.

A visible sigh...and Carver stopped, gestured for the Templars to wait for him as he turned and moved to meet Garrett at the centre of the courtyard. The eyes of the man were a wall, not betraying any emotions...and in so telling Garrett all too much...bitterness, anger, frustration...it was the usual emotions threatening to spill out of the man. "Yes, brother?"

Suddenly aware of several people, mages and templars alike, staring at them, Garrett forced himself to slow down before he came to a stop three feet from Carver. Looking to his left and right, making sure no one was listening in, he struggled to lower his voice, turning it into a hiss. "What the..._hell_ do you think you're doing?!"

"I'm joining the Templars, brother." The patient tone Carver was using was so out of place, Garrett found himself scoffing. "Doing something with my life."

"Really, the _Templars_? Of _all_ things...you want to join the Templars?" Garrett inched closer, narrowing his eyes. "What's going on, brother?"

"There's a good career to be had as a Templar." Was Carver's non-answer, then he shrugged. "Besides, we spent years keeping one family-member away from the Chantry..." A pinch of bitterness seeped into his words. "...seems only fair they get one now."

"What? That's..." Garrett shook his head, confused. "...look, I don't understand what's going on here, but you do realise what Templars _do_, right?" He inched even closer. "Considering who our sister was-"

"Our sister is _dead_." The dull words struck Garrett like a fist, making him take a step back as Carver's blue eyes coolly looked at him. "Perhaps you've forgotten?"

"I.." Garrett, lost for words for a moment, spluttered. "I'll never forget her! I'm not...how could you even _say_ such a thing!?"

"As you yourself say, actions weigh more than words." Carver shrugged, as if the hurtful words were of little consequence. "Not that it matters. She's dead. I'm taking a page out of your book and moving on."

"I...haven't...but..." Garrett shook his head, dazed. "Think of what you're doing, we have _friends_ who...who..."

"Oh don't worry." Carver snarled, crossing his arms over his chest. "I won't _tell_." He cocked his head to the side. "Not for your sake, mind you, but you don't have to worry about it, that's the part that _matters_, right?"

Garrett grimaced. _That_..._is_ _unfair_... Shaking his head, he forced himself to move forward, to whisper his words. "And what of Merrill? If you become a Templar she won't-"

"Oh please." Carver snorted, taking a step back. "You can't have it both ways. You can't tell me _not_ to court her and then trying to use her as an argument to make me reconsider..." For a moment, some doubt flickered behind his eyes, but noticing Garrett's gaze, he narrowed them." Don't try to use her against me, she's not...I...I could do better for her by making sure the other Templars never find her."

Sensing the man's hesitation, Garrett inched closer, trying to push the pain from Carver's previous words aside as he argued. "And what of mother? This'll break her heart you know."

The doubt in Carver's eyes instantly evaporated though, replaced by anger. "Oh I don't worry, I'm _sure_ you'll be able to comfort and support her just _fine_...not like she or you remembers loss all that long, right?"

Garrett took a step back, a pang in his chest. "B-brother, why are you...saying these things...?"

Carver looked away, though his mouth was a bitter line. "Does it matter any more? My explanations are never good enough, my reasons never good enough, _I'm_ never good enough...I don't want to argue with you, I don't want you to try and persuade me like you always do...in fact, you _can't_." He raised his chin. "I'm making my own life now. I'll prove my worth on _my_ terms."

"Is _that_ what this is about?" Garrett grimaced, all too aware of Carver's need to prove his skill in combat...and now that the man mentioned it, how little he'd had the chance to do just that. "Brother, I can have the Viscount knight you, I...you could be the captain of the guards hired to protect our merchant caravans...you could...you could hunt down the outlaws and...and..."

"Oh yes, _you'd_ get me knighted, _you'd_ make me captain, _you'd_ dress me up, let me parade around and think I've _accomplished_ something?" Carver snorted. "I'm _not_ an idiot, brother, nor am I some servant of yours you can keep at your beck and call."

"I _never_ said-"

Carver advanced, a finger shooting out to thump into Garrett's chest, the man's eyes flashing. "You never do, you just _assume_." Shaking his head, the man lowered his hand. "I did my part in protecting Bethany, that's over now...why won't you let me lead my own life?"

"B-but w-we're a family..." Garrett, not sure how to reply, only managed to mutter the protest.

Carver's shoulders slumped, his gaze weary. "Are we? Are we really?"

For a moment, Garrett just stared at him, stunned by the question. Then, he exploded. "Of course we are! We've always been a family! We've always had each other's back! We protect and love each other!"

Carver shook his head. "Not any more, not since you failed to protect Bethany."

Garrett's fist shot out before he knew what he was doing.

Carver caught the punch though, his eyes narrowing as his fingers closed around the fist. "What? You can't deny it, so you resort to violence? Is the great Hawke finally out of arguments? You're dropping to _my_ level?" He sneered the last words, sarcasm dripping from them.

"I...I..." Garrett stared at his fist, shocked with his own actions...and pulled back, letting the hand drop down to his side as he stared at Carver. "I...brother, please...let's just...g-go back and _t-talk_ about this. Don't...don't do anything rash..."

"Oh yes, you _hate_ it when I do something rash, or when I do something aggressive, or when I don't do _exactly what you tell me_." Carver snarled, finger once more shooting out to poke Garrett in the chest. "You hate it when I'm _myself_...and I accepted that, for Bethany's sake...but she's not around any more.." Another poke, harder this time. "..._is_ she?"

Garrett, standing thunderstruck, found his lower lip quivering. "B-brother...all I've _ever_ done is try to pr-protect all of us...I...wh-what did I ever do to make you _hate_ me so...?"

"Too late, brother, you don't get to try and repair things after _years_ of neglect." Carver snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. "Enjoy your wealth, I hope it makes up for the family _you_ destroyed."

Again, Garrett's fist lashed out.

This time it struck nothing but air as Carver ducked low.

_Pain_!

Gasping, Garrett fell to his knees, clutching his stomach as all air fled his lungs.

Towering over him, Carver coolly looked down at him, yet the flash of _satisfaction_ in his eyes...seeing it hurt more than the punch itself had.

_Father, I_...

Shaking his head, Carver turned away. "Goodbye br..._Garrett_."

Again, Garrett gasped, the pain digging into his heart like black claws as he watched Carver move back to his Templar escort and a life away from his family.

As the shock of what had happened slowly receded at the sight of his brother's back, Garrett found tears trickling down his cheeks.

..._I've failed you_...

8

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8

_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for somehow squeezing this one in._


	42. Chapter 42

"I'm sorry, I don't think I heard you right. You want to do _what_?"

Varric was leaning forward on the big table dominating the big room that was something akin to his office, living room and home in the largest suite at the Hanged Man, one Garrett was _sure_ the dwarf had somehow had custom made for his own use. _Maybe he put together three normal apartments by knocking down some walls_? _Seems a lot of work when he could have gotten a fine place at Hightown_..._then again, Varric is quite the unique character, no doubt he enjoys living in Lowtown_. Everything in the apartment was disjointed and rough. The table was as crude as those you'd find down at the bar, only larger. There was a harp in a corner, casually thrown up on a frayed silk cushion, a few tin cups stood atop a cupboard, dented. Bianca was in a glass casket hanging on the wall, beneath which a half-assembled model ship lay, seemingly thrown aside without a care for what might get broken. Varric's coat hung on a peg to the far left, next to it stood a human-sized mannequin with several bolt-sized holes across its surface. The only sign of Varric's dwarven heritage – besides his stature – was the chair he was sitting on, an ornate and clumsy thing of carved stone no doubt inherited from Bartrand...and now improved with a series of cushions to keep between the man and the hard rock.

The man himself looked like he usually did, though actually a bit bigger without his coat on, for without it one could see his muscled arms – made even bigger by him leaning his elbows on the table – and broad shoulders, the coat having made him look leaner than he actually was. The vest he wore underneath his coat was nearly completely unbuttoned, and left most of his chest and all of his arms bare. He was still hairy, still smiling...smirking even confirming that actually he _had_ heard Garrett...looking no worse for wear after the trauma from the Deep Roads expedition, from the hardship and loss.

Garrett found himself slightly jealous of the man.

Still, it was good to see the dwarf. Between his mother's fussing about the Reinhart party, their shared grief over Carver's decision, another expedition to the deep roads, deals with minor merchants _and_ the meetings of the council of nobles...it was nice to sit down and speak to someone less inclined to frustrate or trick him. _Someone to trust, who you can rely on_. Garrett caught himself smiling at the man, making the dwarf, still waiting for a reply, arch an eyebrow. "What? I got something on my face?"

"No, I was just imagining that you're finding my idea a little bit...odd." Garrett replied with a smile, leaning back in his own chair and brought his tin cup filled with a far too fine wine for its container to his lips. After a careful sip – he didn't trust Varric when it came to wines, the dwarf always picked the stronger things – Garrett shrugged. "I suppose it looks out of character for me to wish to start a criminal gang."

"Just a _little_ bit, friend."

"But I've thought it through."

"_Of course_ you have." Varric rolled his eyes as Garrett cocked his head to the side, shooting Varric an amused look at the condescending tone of the dwarf...who just grinned back. "What? I'm agreeing with you." Mimicking Garrett, Varric leant back in his chair and took a sip out of an equally dented mug, eyes closing briefly as he enjoyed the drink before he focused back on the human. "I must say though, I'm dying to hear this, I thought you went legit long ago? Not to mention that you're far too rich to need to commit crimes for a living, or did I hear incorrectly about your successful expedition? And the next coming up soon? Or of the merchants in town not affiliated with any other noble lining up in front of your doorway day and night?"

"I don't intend to create a gang out of a desire for _money_." Garrett grunted, annoyed that the dwarf would even consider such a possibility. _If I wanted more money, I'd just perform tax-evasion like all the other nobles_. Before him, Varric arched both eyebrows and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting. "It's...complicated, but essentially I wish to correct things illegally which I cannot deal with legally." The eyebrows sky-rocketed. "Look, have you _been_ to the councils between the nobles? Heard of what goes on in them?" Garrett growled the question, angry at the very thought of it. _A waste of time, as it is right now_. "Because it's not much."

After taking another sip of his cup, Varric put his hands behind the back of his head, eyes fixed on Garrett. "I'm all ears, Hawke."

"Take taxes, for instance." Garrett took a deep breath, the grip on his own cup tightening as he remembered his last meeting. "In Darktown, there's no one to tax, for they have so little, that's five hundred thousand, half the bloody population. Then we have Lowtown, where Dumar has to send guards with his collectors and have such difficulties taxing a people already making so little that while the taxes hurt _them_ – I would know – they barely make a _profit_ for the Viscount."

"Well...sure, those parts of town aren't exactly brimming with money." Varric replied, sounding a little confused. "But the merchants are the gold of the city, are they not?"

Garrett shook his head with a sigh. "Judging by the level of taxes, one would _think_ that the merchants are the major target of taxes, they're supposed to be taxed every time they enter the city, after all. Yet most of the larger merchants are a noble's client or employee, making them not _only_ taxable by the noble standard, but also making it a monthly tax...guess how many of these merchants are in the city at the allotted payment day? And minor merchants can't compete with this if they follow the rules, so without a noble as their protector they turn to the Coterie or other gangs to smuggle in their wares, or they sell them outside of town, or they wait for religious holidays when they're not allowed to be taxed...after all that, there is precious little left for the Viscount to spend."

Varric, now sighing as well, offered a knowing smile. "Leaving the nobles?"

"Yes...the nobles..." Garrett shook his head, rubbing his temple. "Let's just say that putting a group in charge of taxing themselves leads to low taxes...surprising, huh?"_ And Dumar is too weak both politically and as a person to bring them to order_. "I tried to argue recently for constructing at least a few cobbled roads in Lowtown to benefit some of the merchants in town, the other nobles nearly rebelled at the cost! It would help them, you see, but also help other nobles and merchants not their own...and we can't have that, can we? Somehow there's this perception that a benefit for _all_ is _you_ losing out, because it helps others as well." Garrett's head dropped into his free hand, the man almost getting a headache at the mere thought of it. "Oh but then we also need to add the _Chantry_ to the works!"

"Oh dear."

"Did you know that not only do they get a tenth out of every citizen – a taxing they do better than the Viscount, by the way – but they also take a tenth out of the taxes the _government_ makes?" Garrett put down his cup, afraid he'd break it as he thought back to the infuriating and all too confusing papers he'd looked through. "Oh but it gets better, because once the taxes gathered are in the treasury, they're _wealth_...so why not take a tenth out of that too? Dumar wishes to invest in something? A tenth out of that surely should go to the Chantry. Salaries to government officials and personnel? A tenth there too, please. Dumar's having breakfast? Well we bloody well send the Chantry one of the eggs..."

Varric tilted his head back and exploded into a laugh. "Good one!" Then, just as quickly, he looked back to Garrett, though he was still grinning as he spoke. "Though that still doesn't explain why you want to start a gang..."

Garrett sighed, shoulders slumping. "Do you have any idea how much the protection money to the Coterie costs?" Varric arched an eyebrow in amusement. "Of course you do...anyway, everyone pays them, or the smaller gangs 'owning' the territory someone lives in or where their storage is. Nobles and merchants, private people, they all pay them extraordinary amounts, then they have the _gall_ to complain that crime is rife and they're losing shipments to pirates and bandits..." Garrett grunted, shaking his head. "Kirkwall is a place where crime generally _pays_...yet if I were to suggest raising the number of guards, they'd chew my head off!" _Of all the frustrating, if I was in charge_... Garrett found himself grumbling, glaring at the table. _It's bad enough to see such terrible wastefulness and planning, but to be unable to do anything about it_...

"Ah, so you want to..." Varric chuckled as he connected the dots. "You want to create an illegal police!?"

"Not sure how well that would go down with people ready to sign up to gangs, they naturally shy away from words like 'helping' and 'protecting'..." Garrett frowned, stroking his chin, the stubble there slightly shorter than normal since Leandra had managed to corner him two day ago. "...but if they think it's just another gang, one with a new...'business model'...then that's a different manner."

A hum escaped Varric, the dwarf looking down at the table between them. "One that has extraordinary low fees for protection...?"

"And who actually protects their clients, not just from their own, but all gangs, bandits and murderers..." Garrett agreed, nodding and joining the dwarf in looking at the table, gaze following its veins as he recalled his plan. "Who offers good pay and equipment to their people...even hires on the lowest of the low..."

"...keeping them from turning to other crimes when not at 'work'..." Varric muttered. "...making entire areas of Lowtown, maybe even Darktown, safe..."

"Areas that could be properly renovated by an entrepreneurial noble, a noble buying such slums cheap, who then creates cheap housing that many can work from and afford to pay rent, without constantly in fear of losing it all or to have their savings stolen..." Garrett grinned, the idea that had been percolating in his brain sounding nice to his ears.

"That's a great idea." Garrett looked up, finding the dwarf grinning at him. "You want me to set this up? Using my contacts to find people willing to join a new gang? Nice steady payment and equipment? Sounds easy enough...though, between the poor income from low protection fees, and equipment and the people in Lowtown unable to pay much in rent, even in bulk, I'm not sure what you gain from this...?" The dwarf smirked. "Or do you intend for me to pay for the gang?"

For a moment, Garrett considered it, suddenly sure the dwarf actually _would_ agree to it...then he shook his head. "No, I'm not about to use your money, that wouldn't be right. But you have the connections, the know-how to set things up via middlemen and without leaving a trace...if I give you enough money, do you think you could do this?"

"Of course! Who do you take me for, an amateur?" Varric grinned, then hesitated. "Though...you do realise that the Coterie doesn't appreciate competition, right? Especially competition that seems _ambitious_...and there's no way to conceal the fact that such a gang would somehow get funding elsewhere...Coterie leaders would get...curious."

Garrett smirked back. "I thought you said you weren't an amateur?"

"Ohhh..." Varric touched his chest, feigning pain. "That was a mean one! You know I pride my ability in playing the game of shadows. Ah, very well, I'll check around, see what the cost might be for a small starting gang, then we can talk again." He leaned forward, cocking his head to the side. "You still haven't said exactly why you'd want all this though...is it just you wanting to actually do what the council should be doing, but by other means?"

Garrett grimaced. "Partly, I hate to see this...waste. Kirkwall has so many people, is supposedly so wealthy, yet I _personally_ know how poorly most have it. This is not only sad, but makes _my_ city – and by extension, the Hawke _family_ – look bad, as if we can't take care of the city we claim to be part of ruling." He shook his head. "There's also the problem of unrest and that doing nothing would be...hypocritical."

"Huh?"

Looking down at his hands, Garrett sighed, a little uncomfortable, but willing to speak as long as he didn't look at the dwarf. "I'm sure Isabela told you about how I once refused to give the poison I secured for a friend of hers back to him?"

"I have a...vague recollection, it was some time ago, to be fair." Varric's voice was attentive, almost curious, egging Garrett on.

"My argument was that by keeping it out of the man's hands, I'd protect not just people, but my own kin. Because every action that reduces the danger for a group, reduces the risk of the individual." Garrett sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I know better than to sit idle until disaster strikes, I believe in being pro-active, in making a danger never occur in the first place, or only after the utmost consideration." Garrett grimaced, the memories of old times now stained with blood. "In Lothering, I knew people were curious about the sister they almost never saw. So I spoke of sicknesses, I depicted her as a rough and angry person no one should want to know...I made them not _want_ to see her. I kept reminding Bethany of the danger there was if just _one_ person found out about her magic...I studied alongside her not only because I enjoyed it, but because I didn't want her to get lonely...I _minimized_ the risks of disaster striking."

"Err...not to criticise you or anything..." Varric awkwardly spoke up, hesitating before he continued. "...you don't think that was a bit...harsh? I mean...do you remember how she smiled at the start in the Deep Roads...? I hadn't seen that before..."

Garrett's hand dropped from his nose, body tensing in anger for but a moment, only to relax as he suddenly felt very tired, regret digging into him. "I...yes...I...gave her what she _needed_, never what she _wanted_... Worse, I did the same for Carver who...who...I always thought of the physical, never the soul..." _If only father had lived a moment longer, I'm sure he would have_..._would have told me to care for their hearts as well_..._I'm_..._sure_... He frowned into the table, hating his sudden doubt.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have said anything." A moment of hesitation, the dwarf considering his words. "Want to talk about it? About Carver? Bethany? Family in general?"

For a moment, Garrett almost took the offer, then he shook his head, his usual reluctance for anything but the family kicking in. "No...that's okay..." He shot up a pale smile, surprised how he suddenly felt shy. "...maybe another time." Varric offered a kind smile, and then Garrett looked back to the table, too uncomfortable with the subject. "My _point_ is that as long as half the population lives in poverty and with crime as a daily feature in their life, and a majority of the rest is close to being as poor, there is a risk of this crime, maybe the violent kind, affecting _my_ family..." _What's left of it_. After a moment of hesitation, Garrett found himself adding."...and those I care about."

A chuckle escaped Varric, but he made no comment on Garrett's hesitant final words as he replied. "Well that's really noble of you...didn't know you had it in you."

"Hey!" Garrett looked up, a grin appearing on his face before he'd had a chance to collect himself from the sudden amusement. Varric grinned back. "Well...fair enough, I've never pretended to be a hero like those in the stories..." Pushing himself up to his feet, Garrett was pleased to find his footing solid, Varric's potent drink not having managed to affect him. "...no matter what tales _some_ people might have been spreading." Before him, Varric smirked and offered an amused wink. "I'll talk to you later then, friend, always a pleasure."

"Right back at you, my door's always open...surprised more people don't steal from me, actually."

Chuckling as he walked down the set of stairs separating the Hanged Man's apartments from the bar itself, Garrett found eagerness gripping him as the next point of his schedule grew closer. _Aveline wanted to see me at the mansion, that'll be nice, been too long since we had a proper conversation_..._yes_..._could be very nice_... As if to mock him though, Dhavine's ears rang in his ears. "_Are you sure she would say yes though_? _I'm not either, you're not very_..._charming, and you know it_." Garrett's amusement ruined, he gritted his teeth. _Demons tell nothing but lies, I should not listen to them_.

"Hey!" Garrett jumped, the hand suddenly on his shoulder making him leap to the side, right hand slipping down to his sword and gripping it tight even as his left drew the dagger he kept in his belt. "Whoa! Easy there, champion..." Isabela held up her hands in mock surrender, eyes wide for but a moment. "...wow, have you gotten faster as of late?"

"Spare me your compliments." Grunting in irritation, Garrett let go of his sword, then slammed his dagger back into its sheath. "What do you want?"

"So hostile, that's not very..." Isabela paused, observing the unamused look on Garrett's face. "...okay, I'm sorry."

Noticing the way she stood, almost as if expecting an answer, Garrett arched an eyebrow. "For startling me? Or for trying to be funny? Either way, I don't rightly care."

"What? No." Isabela shook her head, shoulders dropping low as she cocked her head to the side. "I'm sorry about, you know, the thing in the fade..."

For a moment, Garrett just stared at her. "You...cannot be serious." The pirate's expression soured, making Garrett narrow his eyes at her. "You think a simple 'sorry', spoken with the casualness one reserves for bumping into someone, is enough to make me accept your apology?" He scrutinised her, somewhat surprised to find her standing steadily. "Are you drunk?"

Growling, Isabela crossed her arms over her chest. "Hey, I'm trying to apologise here, I'm not very good at it but-"

"That's an understatement." Garrett crossed his arms over his chest as well. "I've already had Fenris try his apology, accusing me of setting things up and therefore risking his soul was _not_ what I wanted to hear." The mere thought of the man's audacity made Garrett grit his teeth. "Yet he at least had _some_ reasoning when giving his pathetic excuse for an 'apology'...so no, a casual 'sorry' is _not_ okay...I want a bloody apology, a _good_ one." He snorted. "Though I doubt you have one in you."

Isabela snarled at the last sentence, yet after a deep breath, she spoke. "I...okay..." A tentative smile. "...but come now...it was just the fade, it was not like you were in any _actual_ danger..."

"You left me in a reality not my own, with a _demon_...and you think I was in no danger!?" Garrett snapped."Don't make light of this, Isabela, not for a second." The pirate bit her bottom lip at that, a hint of guilt in the back of her eyes...Garrett could only shake his head at the sight. "The worst part? Fenris did it for revenge, yet his entire _being_ seems fixated on that...however bad that is, it makes his choice _understandable_. Merrill, she did it for her people, selflessly she desired to help _thousands_...it was a naïve choice, yet the the goal was _admirable_." Pausing for breath, Garrett let the words sink in. "You, however, abandoned me for a _boat_."

"H-hey! It's not just _any_ boat! I could see the beauty of it! She's just..." A hesitant laugh escaped Isabela as she struggled to meet Garrett's gaze. "...I just knew she could get it to me, and that it would be so...I don't know..._great_...and you accepted Merrill's apology, dammit, I asked..."

"Merrill apologised, and did it _well_. And it's a desire demon, it's what it _does_." Garrett scowled at the woman. "Doesn't change the fact that you left me to fend for myself over a _boat_."

"It's not a boat!" Isabela snapped, almost looking angry for a moment, only for her to hesitate again as she looked down at the floor. "It's..._freedom_."

Garrett blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Oh come now." Isabela gestured at the bar with a grimace. "You think this is me? Constantly in a bar, drinking? Sometimes even _paying_ for them?" She shrugged. "Well...yes...but only when I'm in port, and that's _rare_."A grimace, and she returned to scowling at the floor, as if the wooden boards were somehow insulting her. "Normally I'm at _sea_..._flying_ across it with my ship, _dancing_ across waves and through storms..." A yearning quality entered Isabela's voice, her gaze drifting over to the nearest wall, eyes alight with longing as she continued, a wistful tone in her voice, as if she was no longer aware Garrett was even there. "Flitting through the night to escape the gaze of patrol ships and pirates alike. Kissing the horizon on a cloudless day. Feeling yourself melt into the sun itself as it burns down on you, larger than anywhere on land. Feeling as if you're part of the wind as it fills your sails." A longing sigh escaped the pirate. "To do whatever you like, to go wherever you want, and to do that whenever you wish...total freedom..." Another longing sigh escaped her, her eyes closing.

_Damn_..._Dhavine really got under all our skins, didn't she_? Sighing, Garrett found his shoulders slumping. "Fine...you're forgiven." Isabela blinked and looked at him, a look of surprise and growing delight on her face. "But _only_ because we move in the same circles, if you'd been just some random person, I'd have cut you loose long ago." Isabela frowned, though wisely held her tongue as Garrett pointed a finger at her. "Shape up, if you keep doing things like this, I'll feel inclined to not only protect myself by cutting all ties, but make sure the likes of Merrill and Varric distance themselves from you too." To his surprise, Garrett found himself meaning the words. "I won't let you hurt them with your inconsideration."

"I..." A protest was obviously on Isabela's lips...but then she visibly swallowed it down, shook her head and looked away, an angry glint in her eyes. "...okay, fine, _thank you_."

"Quite welcome." Garrett coolly replied, then turned away. "Now excuse me...I have an...appointment."

With steps made eager by both a desire to get away from the pouting pirate as well as reaching Aveline, Garrett moved swiftly.

8

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_Right, don't be nervous_.

Having chosen to receive Aveline in his office...a room not unlike the library, save that the bookcases were filled with scrolls rather than books, and a somewhat austere lack of decorations that made anyone entering fixing their eyes upon the desk at the centre of the room...Garrett felt somewhat in control. The office was from where he gave orders to Bastile and Bodahn, even Hubert on the odd occasion he needed assistance running the Bone Pit...it was a room within which _he_ was in control.

It was also a room from which it was hard to eavesdrop, which considering the way Gamlen and Leandra had been suspiciously close ever since Garrett had entered his home – one probably just curious for gossip, the other driven by motherly concern – Garrett thought to be a point in its favour.

Sitting behind the desk, Garrett gestured at the servant by the door. "Send her in, Fenn, she'll find me here."

"Yes, serah." The elf elegantly bowed and made a swift exit.

_Huh, should get more servants from Orlais, they're flawless, it seems_..._oh for goodness, sake, focus_! Shaking his head, Garrett turned his gaze to the right, noticing Maric's oddly neutral look. "Could you..." The dog looked at him, nose twitching. "...not be here while she's here?" A snort. "What? No I'm not really nervous but I'd rather not talk to her with an audience, you understand, no?" Another snort. "Yes, fine, you can smell me being nervous, it's just..." Garrett sighed. "...stop arguing, I'm not asking you to move a mountain."

Maric made a whining noise while cocking his head to the side...and Garrett frowned back. "I doubt I'll need you, now come on, go, I'm a grown man and can handle talking to a woman on my own."

A final snort, and Maric followed after the servant, his steps stiff. _Damn, did I hurt his feelings_? Garrett grimaced, living with a dog as intelligent as a Mabari could sometimes be difficult._ I'll make it up to him_. Taking a deep breath, Garrett brushed the dog from his mind as he focused on the task ahead. Right, she asked to come, no doubt on some errand, so I'll let her speak her mind first. _It's annoying how little we've had time to speak as of late, just the odd greeting at the Viscount's Keep, not nearly enough for my tastes, and not enough to give me a guess as to what she could want_.

His hands were sweaty.

_This is ridiculous_.

_Maybe I should make a gentle enquiry first_? _Test the waters_?

_Or perhaps simply ask her to have dinner, see if she bites and where it could lead_?_ Although_..._would she understand my intentions_? _Aveline is intelligent, but somewhat_..._oblivious_ _at_ _times_. _She'd hate me not being straight with her though, dancing around the issue isn't her style, and neither should it be mine_.

_Wish I had some way of guessing my chances though, some hint_.

_She hasn't really expressed any interest, at all_.

_Did Fenn get lost or something_? _Damn Orlesian servants_...

Shifting where he sat, suddenly uncomfortable – which was a feat considering the leather coverings of his chair – Garrett shook his head.

_You have a plan, idiot_. _You meet her, help her with whatever she asks, then mention the Reinhart party and, given how you're both invited, you ask if she wouldn't mind having an escort, as befits women on such occasions._ _Innocent, yet with potential. Don't overreach, don't rush, approach this like anything else, small steps until you reach your goal_. Garrett couldn't help but imagine Carver's reaction to such reasoning...and grimaced, both out of the thought of his lost brother, but also because of the reaction he imagined. _I'm doomed_.

Behind him, the clock Leandra had commissioned by a dwarven artisan ticked on, a frustrating sound that set his nerves on edge. _Should I stand or sit_? _Sit, definitely, in fact, I should be working, not looking like she's the only thing I'm focusing on_..._yes, I'm sure she'd appreciate that_. At random, Garrett picked up one of the scrolls he'd yet to go through on the table, eyes moving over the text, not really seeing it. This is stupid, I should just...

"Hawke!" Garrett looked up in surprise, annoyed with how startled Aveline's greeting made him as with a knock on his doorway she entered. "Sorry, I thought you expected me?"

"I did, I did!" Garrett cleared his throat, then grimaced as he noticed the scroll he'd been holding was upside down, quickly rose to his feet and dropped the scroll onto the table before looking up, offering a somewhat too broad smile as he stretched out his hand. "Come, sit." Unsurprisingly, Aveline was still in uniform, though at least not in full armour. The dress-uniform she wore was a bulky woollen thing though, hiding most of her features, the belt across her waist holding a standard guardsman sword. Which wasn't surprising, Aveline had the right to a better one as the captain, but she'd never use such a right, preferring to share her guardsmens' situation.

Aveline looked somewhat taken aback by the look on his face, but shrugged and took his hand, offering a firm but short handshake before taking the offered chair on the opposite side of the desk...and sinking into it with a relieved sigh. "Ah...wow, felt like ages since I sat down."

"Not doing all your paperwork?" Garrett asked with a nervous smirk, trying to sound casual. "Aveline, I didn't think _you'd_ shirk from duty?"

"I let my lieutenants do the majority, the rest I can do standing..." Noticing his look, Aveline rolled her eyes. "...or while walking on inspections and patrols...the main importance is that it gets done, dammit." She shook her head. "Damn, we're doing it again, just like every time back at the keep, I didn't come here to talk about work. Although thank you for those donations again. Most nobles only give a symbolic donation, yours was large enough to hire on more people, first time in ages, if records are to be believed."

"I believe in doing my duty, same as you." Garrett replied, nodding as he put his hands in front of him. It was the truth, nobles were expected to donate some money to the guard every year, a tradition someone once started, but apparently Garrett was the only one that actually gave more than a gift for the captain or some other frivolous thing when what they needed was hard cash. "Glad it's helping though, the guard is stretched thin as it is."

"Yeah..." Aveline looked around herself, then smiled, something in the way she did it reminding Garrett of their time when they were anything but noble and guard, but something far less honest...and he found himself smiling back. _We've come far_. "And dammit, we did it _again_, I didn't come here to talk _work_." For a moment, a look of nervousness crossed Aveline's face, making Garrett's heart skip a beat. _What could she be wanting_...? "But before that...are you okay?" Garrett blinked, taken aback by the suddenly question...and the look Aveline gave him was one of uncertainty. "I hear a lot in my work, you're doing well for yourself, lots of earnings, Kirkwall's trade is growing with the new noble, people say. But...well I also heard about...you know...Carver?"

_Oh_. Garrett felt his gut ache, a phantom pain of the punch his brother had dealt him, and worse, the agony the failure it represented caused him. _Leandra_..._mother_..._she forgave this easier than Bethany's death, I think_..._I think she's angry at Carver, rather than me_. _It's not fair, I was the one who_..._eugh, what does it matter_? _We needed Bethany, he and I_. _Without her_..._maybe it was just a matter of time_? _Or if I had actually_... The doubts and what if's hounded Garrett, more so at night than during the day when he was working, but the mention of his name...it always brought on the same questions, questions with no answers. "I...respect his decision, I understand that he wants to forge his own path, create his own life and so on."

"Really?" Aveline arched an eyebrow.

Garrett flinched. _I'd forgotten how_..._blunt she can get_. "I...don't _like_ it, obviously, but I _understand_ it, yes..."_ I __really__ don't like it_. _A Templar_? _It's spitting on Bethany's memory, of what we all went through to keep her away from them_. "But it's his life, as he so _eloquently_ put it..." Some bitterness seeped into Garrett's words, making him force a smile to take the sting out of it. "...and I must accept that." _Maybe he'll actually keep his word on that note he left and write mother at some point_..._I doubt I'll get the same treatment_.

"Sounds like bull to me. I can accept him wanting to make his own way, but to go from top to bottom again out of principle alone just seems prideful to me." Aveline replied, then grimaced. "Right, you don't want to talk about it, even I can see that..."

Garrett, still forcing his smile, cocked his head to the side. "Yes...you wanted to speak to me?" By now, all nervousness was gone, replaced by tiredness. _I didn't want to start our talk like this_..._thinking about Carver_...

"Oh, yes...right." Aveline shifted where she sat, looking uncertain. "I...please don't laugh or make fun of me?"

Smiling, yet with his heart beating a little faster as the thoughts of Carver were pushed to the back of his mind, Garrett's smile turned more genuine. "Do I usually do that?"

"No, of course not..." Aveline licked her lips, looking away. "...silly of me to fear anything else." She visibly swallowed, and Garrett found himself taking a shaky breath. "It's just...I don't feel comfortable speaking on matters of...erm...the heart." Garrett's heart made a somersault.

"O-of the heart, you say?" Garrett swallowed, trying to sound confident as he continued. "Well...Aveline, you and I have been through a lot, you know that...speak to me."Across the desk, he saw her hand, resting across the desk, close, yet somehow far away...and he reached out.

"Y-yes...I...it's embarrassing to ask for help in courting a man."

Garrett's hand stopped halfway across the table.

Aveline's hands remained on the table, knuckles whitening as she pressed them into the surface, eyes fixed on the wood between them. "I...it's something that...grew...while you were away on your expedition." _The expedition_..._of course_. "Not that Donnic's...noticed me...I'm bad at making my interest known, I'm afraid." _I know how you feel_. "Which is why I've come to you...for help, you know?"

Garrett pulled his hand back into his lap, leaning back into his chair.

Aveline's face shifted from one of embarrassment to one of confusion. "I...well as I said, his name is Donnic, a guardsman...good man...I'm...not sure what else to tell you that could help...erm...if you _want_ to help, that is?" After a moment, she blinked in confusion. "Garrett?"

He coughed, then blinked...before finally waking out of the daze he'd been caught in. "I...well I..." He cleared his throat, struggling not to swallow the lump in his throat. "O-of course I'll help." He struggled to force a smile, feeling the individual muscles tremble. "What are friends for, eh?"

"Yes...thank you." Aveline shot him a curious look, no doubt finding his behaviour off...yet her happiness over his reply made her lips quirk into a smile none the less. "I'm...thank you, I just don't know where to start...how to..well do these things. My marriage to Wesley happened nearly by accident, I never had to...do anything." She shook her head. "I know, it's stupid, but I really feel like I need help...and I know you're smart, so I figured you could think of something..."

Garrett needed only to think for a moment, the idea he had held himself easily changed to fit her purposes. "As a captain of the guard, you are invited to the Reinhart party, correct?" He swallowed, the words hard to speak. "I can invite Donnic as a guest, giving him a reason like...you will dislike being surrounded by nobles, and could use some company?"

"Oh...yes, that will be perfect!" Aveline's face broke into a smile, then changed to uncertainty. "But...what will we talk about?"

"Whatever comes to mind...I can only put you together in a social setting, the rest is up to you." Garrett sighed, suddenly very tired. "If that's all, I'll...set it up, I guess."

"Well...yes, I guess." Aveline shot him a confused look. "Are you okay? You looked a bit...harried? I didn't come at a bad time, did I?"

"I am a little swamped, yes, but it's no trouble, I did receive you, didn't I?" Garrett managed, irritated with the edge of hostility in his voice. "Though...if that's all...?" He let the question hang, not trusting himself to speak further. Head thick, body cold and chest tight...he wanted her to go.

"Yes...I understand, I can take a hint, I'm not blind." Aveline rose with a genuine smile and a chuckle. "You're a good friend, Garrett, thank you."

"It's my pleasure." Garrett lied, rising to take Aveline's hand, their handshake blessedly quick. "Now, excuse me but I hope you could see yourself out? I trust no one else with my paperwork." Garrett forced a smile.

"Ah, of course. We'll talk again soon, I hope." Aveline shot him the briefest of confused looks, then smiled as well and moved for the door, swiftly making her exit, much to Garrett's relief.

The moment the door closed behind her, Garrett sat back down, hands moving up to rub his temples, still a little dazed. _I'm such a fool_.

Unsurprisingly, Leandra entered a moment later. A quick look at him, and the woman swiftly moved across the room and around the desk to kneel behind him, arms on his shoulders, voice a low mutter. "I'm sorry, son..."

Garrett sighed. "I know, me too." _Disappointed_.

"Yet you're not as hurt as one would expect." _Huh_? "I suppose that makes sense, with it being a crush and all." Garrett tensed, making her grip tighten on him. "I'm sorry, but really, what else did you think it was?" Garrett looked down at the table, not daring to meet his mother's gaze, not sure what to say, what he'd _do_ if he looked up. _A_..._crush_!? "You and Carver are the same in this, you and Aveline, him and that elf girl...only difference is that Carver has known more crushes than you. _Neither_ of you, however, know the _passion_, the _tenderness_ and the _friendship_ that is _true_ love...I'm sorry, but it is so, I know this all too well."

_She_..._would_ _know_. Garrett well remembered the love his mother and father had shared, it had been a passion and gentleness that he'd seen no one else display. Still, Garrett found himself rebel at the thought, of the thought of _him_ having something so simple as a _crush_. "But I thought.."

"Yes...you thought it through, you _considered_, you _planned_..." A little kiss landed on the top of Garrett's head as Leandra sighed. "My poor boy...that's not how love works, I'm afraid...you saw her as a good match, you saw good qualities in her and thought she'd complement your own...you can't analyse things like that." Another kiss, this time on his cheek. "She's a good woman, I admit, maybe just a captain of the guard..."_ Just a_..._oh, right, forgot who I now am_. "...but I'd have been glad to see her make you happy...but it was never going to happen, I'm sorry."

"I...suppose..." Garrett slumped in his seat, tired to the bones. "...give me a moment, mother, I...need to be alone for a while."

"I..." Leandra hesitated, though she rose to her feet, her hands remained on him. "...you'll find someone, eventually, okay?" Garrett could offer but a mute nod. "And I don't think I'll be leaving, no, you can sit and think this through later, but right now...I think you need some company." Again, she crouched down, but this time it was next to him, one arm over his shoulder as the other moved to rest on his cheek, forcing him to look at her.

Her eyes were kind, caring, sympathetic...and for once, Garrett didn't feel guilt when looking into them.

"Now give me a hug."

Smiling faintly, Garrett obeyed.

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for being so awesome._


	43. Chapter 43

"Ladies and gentlemen of the council, if I may?"

Garrett rose, he knew what he was going to say, the strength of his arguments...and that they would fall on deaf ears. Usually, that would make arguing pointless, but Garrett wasn't doing it to change the opinions of the assembled nobles, no, he did it for the _attention_ it might garner.

A quick glance to his left revealed that while the Viscount Dumar was watching him like the others, it was with tired and dull eyes, the man worn down by the latest council, as he usually was by the time it was close to being finished. _Not surprising, given how everyone keeps reducing his power while demanding he use it efficiently_. Garrett, however, was still young, and knew himself to be of sterner stuff than that of the Viscount, he didn't intend to become demoralised. _When the going gets tough_... The saying was one Carver had liked when they'd worked on the fields, and the thought of it made Garrett struggle not to grimace as he looked about himself to make sure everyone was paying attention.

The chamber they were in was a floor above the throne room, the left side opening in a broad and tall window giving a breath-taking view of the city and main harbour below, the light filtering through it enough to illuminate everyone in the room, be it be it the seated nobles or the servants standing still as statues along the other walls. These walls were covered in wooden panels and tapestries, making for the illusion that one was in a house and not a fort, as the rough stone behind was nowhere to be seen. The same could be said of the ceiling, covered in white lime and painted by some Orlesian artist once, as well as the floor, covered as it was with a thick black carpet from corner to corner, the bloodied heraldry of the city in its centre, mostly concealed by the table standing atop it.

The table was a ridiculous thing of stone, large enough to take up the majority of the room and with reliefs of various scenes from the Chant of light cut into its edges. Round, Garrett had heard it was supposedly for making all at the table to be equal in the council...a silly notion to him, seeing as everyone knew the power and authority with which each man and woman spoke with, no table would change that.

The Viscount was seated closest to the window, on Garrett's left, and the Fereldian offered the man a brief bow of respect, something most still did at council before speaking, yet too many no longer bothered with. _Hard to respect him, perhaps, but the __office_..._without a Viscount, there's no unifying force in Kirkwall, factionalism is bad enough as it is already_. The man looked the part of a Viscount, physically at least, his crown of black steel fit well on his head and his equally black clothes gave his still intact physique a noble air...yet the tired eyes, the dull look on his face...it took away all power the man once might have projected, if he ever had.

Considering the templars had been the ones who put him in power, Garrett guessed not.

Behind the man, a woman that made Garrett bristle sat on a smaller chair. It was a different Chantry sister every time, this time a little brown-haired dormouse of a woman, yet who it was never mattered to him. _A __Chantry__ scribe, __not__ one of our own, recording our every word, our every decision, and sending a copy to the Templar headquarters of all things, not even hiding the fact she's working for the Templars, rather than the Chantry itself_. It was bad enough to read through stacks of documents about all that the Templars had forced upon Kirkwall's government in terms of laws and taxes, some wasn't even written down, just demanded, but to have them watch every move of the government... It wasn't only insulting, but undermined whatever authority the Viscount held by making sure he was being watched like a child.

Looking away from the woman shifting in fright under his frown, Garrett turned his gaze to the nobles of the city, those with the real secular power in Kirkwall, however fractured they might have made it.

Some chairs were empty, since many a noble viewed his time better spent elsewhere, or didn't care. Others were occupied by minor nobles that legally shouldn't be allowed in the council for anything but major decisions, but who were sponsored by other nobles, either to simply represent them or to add their votes to any decision so that their sponsor could make his or her vote that much more powerful.

Across the table, one such noble sat, surrounded by six minor nobles that gave him a third of the votes at the table, and that was him letting his guard down. Charles Reinhart was a twig of a man, middling height, a long and wrinkly neck tipped by a bald and even wrinklier skull making him look like a tortoise out of its shell. His grey eyes glittered with intellect and amusement though, concealing the fact that the man was one of the greediest man in Kirkwall...and also the wealthiest. The man owned many a property in Kirkwall, earning a wealth in rent from storing whatever other nobles transported to the city. Besides that, he earned almost as much from all his properties in the surrounding countryside, all mines but the Bone Pit were his, mainly digging up silver and gold. All the surrounding farmlands were his as well, meaning he technically held his foot on the Viscount's throat, seeing as how the cheap grain from those farms was feeding nearly the entire population of Kirkwall. Yet the man would never press his foot down, the coppers trickling from a near million people too good to pass up. His interest lay in securing his wealth, not in politics.

Further down the right, a dwarf sat, her fine dress stained at the neckline by a sliver of drool as she quietly snoozed. Next to her, a man dressed in a hood despite being indoors tried to look dashing and interested at the same time...and failed at both, his eyelids drooping as he struggled to stay awake, elbow resting on the table. Like several at the table, they were nobles of little consequence, minor nobles either taking the seat of their sponsor, or men and women just at the point that they were allowed to enter the council. They were full of their own importance yet rapidly coming to understand the pointlessness that the council had devolved into. _The old archives spoke of great debates, now the council members can barely rouse to speak_._ I suppose I should not judge, most would rightly consider me a jumped up peasant, and a foreigner at that, but at least in Ferelden, those in charge do their duty_. _Hell, if Loghain could do it before his fall from grace, so could I_.

To the right another noble of note sat though. Guillaume de Launcet, an Orlesian Comte turned Kirkwall lord. Unlike Reinhart, making his money off of real-estate, or most other nobles, making their money from trade, the man came from a long line of Orlesian nobles...but of a dying house, ensuring that the man was immensely rich from inheritances. Still, while his wealth came from an unimpressive source, the man cut a powerful figure. Broad of shoulders and slim of waist, his sand-coloured beard and hair were finely cropped and combed to the point that not a hair was out of place, the fine impression enhanced by a excessively decorated doublet and single golden chain with a locket hanging from his neck. His eyes were brown, glittering with cheerfulness from within deep sockets...and had been looking at Garrett many a time now...not that Garrett blamed the man, he'd given the man looks as well, curious._ The man my mother might have married, had it not been for my father...how different mother's life would have panned out_... Of course, the man, who didn't look nearly as affected by time as Leandra, despite being of similar age, had a wife by now, even a son...though Garrett had heard the boy was a simpleton. _At least he doesn't seem to harbour hard feelings, he almost seem friendly_.

Having looked about the room, Garrett cleared his throat and spoke out, making the dwarven lady mutter something in her sleep. "To try and demand or ask the Qunari of something like this is pointless, we should all know that by now. They act according to their own rules and will not heed or even _understand_ our argument that this latest band of Tal-Vashoth harrying the land-trade is theirs to deal with. They do not consider Tal-Vashoth Qunari business, they will kill them if they find them, yes, but to imply that the Tal-Vashoth are somehow their responsibility or criminals of _their_ people is not something the Arishok will acknowledge." Garrett saw one of the nobles that had just reached the wealth to partake in the council bristle, ready to counter-argument...and Garrett shot the man a hard look, making him close his mouth and slump in his chair, looking annoyed. "I realise that this is a foreign concept to us, and goes against our own values and even _logic_...yet that's where we are, and trying to impose our own view on the Qunari will _not_ work. I'm sure Kirkwallers, with more experience of the Qunari than me, a mere Fereldian, understands this even better."

_Considering the arguments laid so far, it doesn't seem that way_. The noble that had been about to argue turned a slighter shade of red at Garrett's words, but remained silent. Guillaume de Launcet was leaning back in his chair, eyeing Garrett with interest while Charles Reinhart was leaning forward on his elbows, fingers steepled in front of him as with a poker-face he watched Garrett. Dumar still looked tired rather than listening though, the Viscount visibly suppressing a yawn.

"Now besides that, many arguments have been laid forward for the _Guard_ to handle this, and while this is correct from a legal standpoint, the practical application of that stands in question, as I've mentioned before. The Guard does not have _scouts_, they do not have _trackers_, they are ill-equipped to even _find_ the Tal-Vashoth, never mind bring them to battle. More importantly, however, is the fact that there are precious few guardsmen as it is, if a detachment is sent, there really is no replacement with which to keep order in the city. And as we all know from the most recent anti-Qunari riot..." _No doubt created by that Petrice sister, if she thinks I've forgotten about her, she's sadly mistaken_. "...was barely suppressed by severely outnumbered guardsmen. I cannot think anyone here would wish to even _think_ of the consequences of an unchecked riot near the docks and the warehouses there, warehouses brimming with our property."

There were a few mutters of agreement at that, a few more hushed and worried than others. I_ never knew the nobles feared those in Lowtown so much_..._no doubt the Coterie makes them think everyone there are like the gang_. Reinhart was nodding, a good sign, but one that wouldn't change the man's position on the matter, Garrett knew. Dumar was eyeing him with a little more interest though, and that was what mattered.

"Of course, by extension, as so many have pointed out, this is the _Viscount's_ job." There was mutters of agreement all across the table, only Reinhart and Dumar himself being silent, the later looking very tired all of a sudden. "He could hire trackers and scouts for the detachment of guards...that we cannot send." Garrett paused for effect. "Yet he could also, as many have pointed out, hire mercenaries, no? Yet..." Garrett frowned, an action coming naturally whenever he thought of Kirkwall's economy. "...with what money? The taxes trickling into the Viscount's office is not enough to pay the guardsmen currently hired, never mind the maintenance of the city..._how_ would he be able to hire a mercenary company?" Garrett shook his head. "Loans? From whom? _Us_? When would we expect repayment? In a hundred years? More? Where's the point in that? Never mind the way we then further weaken the strength of the Guard in the future." He paused for but a moment. "From foreign bankers and nations? Hurting not only the city's but _our_ appearance as well when they find themselves not being repaid? Kirkwall is a city based on _trade_. Trade requires an amiable relationship with those we do business with...ergo, we will lose out on profit if we hurt our reputation in such a way."

Reinhart was leaning back in his chair, looking somewhat amused, yet in a way that didn't welcome Garrett's arguments. Most other nobles didn't seem sure of where he was going with his arguments, save Guillaume who was grinning, teeth flashing as he listened on. Dumar was now leaning on one armrest, his attention fixed on Garrett, curious, surprised and _pleased_. _A good sign_. Garrett wasn't all that interested in Dumar as a person or even what the man could do, but with him came _legitimacy_...if Garrett could, with his growing income and influence, act in Dumar's name, he could do so knowing none could question the legality of his actions...at least in public. _And only as long as I'm seen acting within the law_..._wonder how Varric is doing with our little plan_...

"Yet as long as these Tal-Vashoth prey on our trading, they will hurt us _all_." Garrett took a deep breath, knowing the plunge he was taking would likely be meeting a cold wall. "I move that we all contribute a small-"

"Tax?" Charles Reinhart interrupted, his face blank, yet eyes glimmering with intellect. "That was what you were about to say, no?" Garrett inclined his head, moving to speak...yet Reinhart was quicker. "I've already paid my tax, if the Viscount needs more, it must come up at the proper debate...next year." _A debate which you'll shut down, we all know_... Garrett offered a polite smile, one Reinhart answered in kind, nothing but friendly as he countered Garrett's position. "If we start to forego procedure and tax our nobles whenever the city needs an extra income, it'll set up a dangerous...precedence for doing so in the future. All respect to our honoured Dumar, he acts with nothing but honour to his nobles..." Reinhart shot the Viscount a brief nod, not even noticing the way the old man grimaced at the words. "...but the Viscount office is eternal, and giving it more powers than it should have could be exploited by a lesser man."

"I'm aware of these...troubling issues." Garrett replied, choosing his words carefully as he tried to gauge the sincerity of Reinhart's smile. "But laws weigh lightly against reality, and the reality is that the Viscount does not have the means to deal with this issue, _we_ do. Each one of us is losing money from the disruption to trade these Tal-Vashoth are creating. Together, the cost for removing them would be minimal...while the cost for letting them be would be greater. Hell, any one of us could _single-handedly_ afford to deal with this nuisance. Surely a joint effort, with the blessing of the Viscount, is not out of the question then?"

"Semantics." Reinhart chuckled. "A joint effort with the Viscount's blessing and leadership is the same as us paying him a tax directly, my dear Hawke, and I'm sure you're aware of this." _True_... Garrett inclined his head, forcing a smile as he sensed Reinhart about to take the bait. The man was nothing if not predictable when it came to money, he disliked spending it but loved saving himself money...especially if someone else footed the bill._ At least that's the impression I've gotten from all these Council meetings_..._Maker knows why the Reinharts' have two parties a year for all the nobles...either he's different socially or his wife is amazingly persuasive._ "However, as you pointed out, each one of us could afford it on our own..." _Ah, you said it, a good start_. "...so if you feel compelled to deal with this issue on your own, then as a noble of Kirkwall, I believe you are entitled to do so."

"Thank you, Reinhart, you are quite right." Garrett held Reinhart's gaze, forcing himself not to try and glance at Dumar as he spoke. _Pick your words carefully now, Garrett_... "I might, in a fit of patriotism, indeed do this. Though I'd prefer to do so with the Viscount's permission, than to undertake a private war, I respect the sovereignty of the Viscount in such matters, after all. But if my fellow nobles feel incapable of rendering aid at the moment, no dishonour should fall on them, I was merely opening for an opportunity to participate."

"Good, we are in agreement then." Reinhart smiled, the flashing of his eyes telling Garrett that the man was pleased with the chance of losing a nuisance by someone else paying for their removal. The other nobles also looked pleased, even Guillaume de Launcet was smiling encouragingly, despite the fact that he had nothing at stake in the matter. _Funny, in Ferelden, I'm sure the nobles there would have been more sensitive around the issue of possible dishonour_..._ah well, I shouldn't look a gift-horse in the mouth, I've circumvented insulting the nobles while at the same time __reached out to the Viscount, that's what matters_. "Now, if that's all...?" Reinhart turned his head, looking to Dumar...and Garrett did the same.

Garrett found the Viscount looking at him, nearly staring...before slowly blinking and shaking his head. "What? Oh, yes." The man assumed a neutral look on his face and grabbed a gavel lying discarded on the table in front of him. "I, Dumar the first..." Given he had no child, his one son having died by falling off his horse ten years ago, he was also likely the last...which suited Garrett just fine. "...hereby call this Council to an end, may all who leave walk in the Maker's shadow." As one, the nobles rose to leave, the door swiftly opened by an attentive servant. "Except for you, Hawke. Please stay."

_Ah_..._good_. Stopping, Garrett ignored Reinhart's wry look as well as Guillaume's curious one, instead he kept his eyes on the floor, and a hand on the table as he waited, giving the other nobles time to leave along with the servants.

When the door finally shut with a polite click, Garrett looked up, somewhat surprised to find him and Dumar alone, not even a solitary servant or the Chantry scribe left with them. _Good, makes things easier, won't have to worry about any spies_... Garrett glanced at the walls, a niggling suspicion in the back of his mind, given his own knowledge of hidden tunnels throughout Kirkwall. ..._maybe_.

The Viscount was standing behind his throne, back turned to it as with hands clasped in front of him, he faced the window, looking down at the city bellow. Slowly, Garrett moved to stand next to him, carefully watching the man's face, trying to gauge his mind.

It was a curious game Garrett was playing, one he wasn't sure was actually necessary. But he knew the dangers that lurked in Lowtown, it was a latent fireball, ready to explode. He knew of the Templars' tightening grip, threatening to slowly choke the life out of the city and anyone affiliated with magic. He knew of the Qunari, a looming threat none seemed to take seriously. He knew of the crippled Viscount and inactive nobility, leaving the city rudderless and a prey to all other factions within the city. And he knew he was _part_ of that city.

Knowing that, he had decided to act proactively. With enough power and influence in the city, he could stop any incoming disasters before they ever happened. Keeping what was left of his family, as well as others he cared about, safe...securing the Hawke name and his own as a name of power was also a nice bonus, giving him the control he so desired. _I'll use my control of the city damn better than most in this place though, that's for sure_..._and I might need that control_. In the back of his head, Flemeth's words on Sundermount echoed. "_But I also listen, to the current, to the change in the wind_..._to the growing storm_."

_Growing storm_...

Blinking, Garrett realised neither he nor Dumar had spoken for quite some time.

He cleared his throat, eyes that had been drawn to the view outside while he'd been thinking slowly moving to look at the Viscount, waiting.

The old man before him sighed, closing his eyes as he raised his head, letting the warmth of the sun touch his face...and only then did he speak. "You are different."

"Serah?"

"I've ruled this city for what...thirteen years?" The Viscount frowned. "Odd, feels like longer..." A shake of his head. "...doesn't matter. The point is that in _all_ that time, I've _never_ had someone speak up in support of higher taxes, for giving me _more_ power." A little smile. "It's both welcoming and...curious, I must say." Finally, he opened his eyes and turned his head, scrutinising Garrett, both curious and suspicious.

Garrett smiled, showing no hint of his plans. "In Ferelden, the lord obeys the king. Besides, I hold this...divided rule in scant regard, the nobles stand apart from you and each other, when together, we'd be far stronger than the sum of our power." _Best not mention Dumar's failure to keep the nobles in check_..._or that me aiding him is a step to becoming the power behind the throne_..._a throne I might just take later on_... "As such, if I can start something by serving the crown, I'll do so. It's what I'm sworn to do, as a noble of Kirkwall, is it not?"

A snort of amusement escaped Dumar, the man looking back to the city below, mouth a bitter line. "Oh yes, the oaths of fealty and obedience...had almost forgotten about those empty words." Reaching up, the man pulled off his crown, holding it out in front of him, watching it with narrowed eyes. "I suppose I'm not used to someone taking those seriously." He looked back up to Garrett, an incredulous look on his face. "You really intend to..._support_ me?"

_And use your station, yes_. Garrett nodded. "Yes."

Dumar stared at him, then blinked before turning his head away, his words shaky. "I...see...I'm...well...thank you." Taking a deep breath, he then more steadily continued. "If that's the case, I have a job for you." The man turned his head, looking to Garrett, looking calm and in command...if it had not been for the slight wetness in the corner of his eyes.

Made somewhat sympathetic by the glitter in Dumar's eyes, though not enough to lose his cool, Garrett found himself speaking the words he'd already planned with more feeling than he otherwise might as he inclined his head in a bow. "I'm at your disposal, my lord."

"Good." Dumar stepped away from the window and over to the table, gently placing his iron crown on the table as he scrutinised the surface of the stone, mulling his next words over "The Arishok sent word..._three_ years and this is the _first_ time _he_ contacts _me_...and I have no idea what he wants."

Garrett, suddenly on edge, inched closer, eyebrows furrowed in a frown. "The message doesn't say?"

"No..." Dumar turned, leaning his hands on the table behind him as he looked to Garrett. "...it only asks for _you_..." The Viscount hesitated. "...you two...know each other?"

"We've had dealings before, back when I was but a mercenary in Lowtown." Garrett replied, barely noticing Dumar's raised eyebrows as he turned his head, looking out over the city beneath, seemingly aglow under the sun...a beautiful sight if one didn't know how filthy it really was. "Not that I thought he'd remember me...although..."

The Saarebas' last words lingered on Garrett's tongue all of a sudden. "_You have no choice_..._basvaarad_."

"...yes, perhaps he has his reasons for wishing to speak with me, specifically." Looking back to Dumar, Garrett found himself facing eyebrows arched in question. "As I said at the Council, the Qunari have alien values to us...it's hard to explain."

"Very well, I'm just glad _someone_ finally got their attention enough to actually be able to _talk_ to them." Dumar's face broke into a small smile as he took a step closer, patting Garrett's forearm. "And that to one of _my_ men as well, this is both a strange _and_ a good day..." Still smiling, Dumar pulled back, put his crown back on and straightened his back. "Lord Hawke. I hereby charge you with the duty as Kirkwall's liaison with the Qunari...go and find out what the Arishok wants, and then report back to me."

Garrett bowed deeply, not about to reveal his delight at not only receiving Dumar's trust, but also his first bit of legitimate power to wield in the city. _I'll bring this city to order, one faction at a time_..._Qunari are as good a place as any to start with_. "I'm honoured, my lord. I'll go immediately."

With that, Garrett spun and marched for the door, feeling the Viscount's eyes on him...and smiled.

_Qunari_ _liaison_..._this is a good start_.

8

8

8

_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for being so diplomatic._


	44. Chapter 44

"We are not friends-"

"We are not."

Garrett sighed, Fenris was a grim person, and his disposition towards Garrett always seemed to shift between reluctant respect and hostility...and right now, the man was exuding the later. _As always when speaking of the future_. "...but I respect you, and I'm simply giving you an offer, one that would give me some peace of mind and you a more reliable income. Surely you don't want to stay a mercenary forever? Being a mercenary is a dangerous profession, even more so when you are alone and not in a company."

"I like being alone."

Again, Garrett sighed. Fenris was a...hard man to speak to. Not only was he reserved, but his bitterness made it difficult to speak with him without the subject derailing...not to mention that ever since Fenris' 'apology', Garrett had an innate urge to punch the man every time he saw him. Not that that had factored into Garrett's offer, he knew to separate emotions from business.

Right now, it was hard not to snap at the elf though, and as such Garrett clamped his mouth shut and breathed through his nose, not about to make a scene on an open street.

Dressed in his fine leather armour – Maker willing, he'd never actually have to wear his plate outside training with Bastile – and carrying his fine silverite sword, Garrett knew he was an intimidating figure for most criminals of Lowtown. With Fenris at his right and the massive Maric trotting just behind him, the probability of someone accosting them was minimal.

Yet Garrett had even more protection now. The gang he and Varric was funding was still small, but well equipped, fed and motivated...and thinking he was paying them protection money. 'The cats', as Varric had named them for some reason, had already taken the territory of two minor gangs that had worn each other down with a feud, and while still small, the gang was making itself known as taking its deals _very_ seriously. As such, Garrett expected that even now one or two of these gang-members were watching him, ready to step in if he was in danger...an invisible protection probably far more efficient and flexible than the guards other nobles brought with them when visiting Lowtown.

They were nearing the port area of Lowtown, and as such, the existence of the Qunari compound was making Garrett's back itch with a tingle of nerves, knowing he could not bring these gang members with him in there. He would have Fenris, yes, and the Arishok would not allow anyone to harm him, he was sure...but the Qunari numbers had steadily swelled with elven converts ever since the Qunari's arrival, and each elf convert held humans like Garrett in obvious contempt. Garrett was by now fairly comfortable around Merrill, heck, one might say he was so around Fenris as well...but he wasn't so foolish as to think the idea of armed elves didn't make him raise his hackles. With the exception of Fenris and Merrill, it _felt_ wrong to think of armed elves...in fact he still found himself ever so slightly on edge around that race in general. Still, he knew this about himself, but also knew he was, much thanks to Merrill, doing better...which was what mattered.

Armed and _hostile_ elves was another matter entirely though. Between them and anti-Qunari humans, tensions were high. _The Viscount should never have let the Qunari in, it's tearing the city apart without the Qunari even __doing__ anything_...

Having calmed down during their silence, Garrett tried again, giving Fenris a glance and noticing the stubborn raise of the elf's chin with as much patience he could muster. "I'm merely saying that a steady income would do you well, plus put you out of a constant risk to your life. _I_ would also feel safer, knowing you'd be guarding my mother, because I know your capabilities as a warrior. As Varric would say...everybody wins."

"My presence would not make your mother safe. Danarius-"

"Has not sought you out in _years_." Garrett interrupted. "If he did indeed value you so much, why wait for so long? He hasn't even sent anyone to seek for you since we took care of those hunters when we met. No, I fear a random thug or assassin far more than your old master to come and hurt her in the process of capturing a lone rogue slave." Garrett shot Fenris another glance, not surprised to find the elf frowning at his words. _It's almost like he __wants__ his old master to come, as if he can't enjoy his freedom until then_..._curious_...

Finally, Fenris replied. "He _will_ come...and I'm no _guard_...I did that for far too long in his service." He turned his head, eyes narrowing at Garrett. "I will not go back to servitude."

"It's not servitude if you're being..." Garrett stopped himself before finishing and turned his attention back to the street. "...ah, forget it, I should know by now I can't sway you. I was merely trying to help..."

"Of a fashion." Fenris corrected, no doubt referencing Garrett's own gain from such a deal, voice curt.

Garrett, back stiff, stared right ahead, voice a grumble. "...not sure why I bother though..." _This whole 'trying to be friendly with everyone' thing is hard work_..._not sure how Merrill does it_.

Ahead, an all too familiar gate loomed high.

Slowing down, Garrett lowered his head as he spoke to Fenris. "Now, let me do the talking." The elf snorted, but Garrett ignored it. "I'm the one he sent for, the one he wishes to speak to...but just...listen in and see if there's anything of note I might miss. Given your knowledge of the Qunari, I'm paying you not as a guard, but an advisor, okay?"

"Yes, you've told me so already, why repeat it?" Fenris scowled. "Are the Qunari making you nervous? I did not think you the type."

"Anything that flies, crawls or walks makes me nervous." Garrett evenly replied, eyes on the gate ahead, guarded by two stoic Kossith sentries with bare chests. _You'd think they'd wear shirts by now, they're hardly shipwrecked any more_. "And when they are in my city, inciting tensions with their very presence and carry weapons...that so many _aren't_ nervous is what surprises me."

"Hmmm...better safe then sorry?" Fenris cocked his head to the side as the doors before the elf, human and the Mabari opened. "I see." _Was that approval_? _Hard to tell_...

Garrett's attention was diverted from Fenris the moment they entered though, his eyes curiously taking in their surroundings. Nothing had really changed since last time he'd visited, but that was only in the square they were in. Judging by the sounds in the background though...the Qunari had gone from having a smith to having an _industry_...enough to make Garrett ponder the idea of sending in a spy, only to dismiss the notion instantly. The Qunari would not forgive something like that. _Wonder what they're making though_..._I don't like it_. Ahead, the path was lined by Kossith guards with their big spears glittering in the sunlight. This time there wasn't an elf was in sight though, making Garrett both relieved and worried at the same time. _They are still in the compound, but __where_...? _At least none will eye my back up while fingering a knife this time_.

And at the end of the square, the Arishok sat, a statue that might as well never have moved from his improvised throne since last Garrett had seen him.

Marching past statuesque guards, Garrett approached, as always, somewhat uneasy by the strange light in the Arishok's eyes as the Qunari watched him come closer. _It's like he can see right through me_...

Shaking aside the scary thought, Garrett bowed his head slightly before speaking. _Don't say 'sent', Garrett, you're not his servant_... "You asked for me, Arishok?"

"I did." The Qunari's voice was like gravel. Hard, stony, bereft of all emotion. For a moment, all the Arishok did was look at Garrett, his gaze sweeping over the man. "You have done well for yourself, basvaraad" Garrett flinched, then remembered himself._ He means no insult, it's a title, one I earned, although 'bas' means_..._no, ignore it_. "Word has reached the Qunari that you are now a...'noble'." The Arishok seemed to taste the word, and find it wanting.

"I _earned_ that title, yes." Garrett replied, annoyed with how defensive he sounded.

Next to him, Fenris cocked his head to the side, voice a low whisper. "It's not about earning..."

The Arishok's voice commanded silence though. "It's not about earning, it's about being."

"Can we agree that I'm _rightly_ a noble, then?" Garrett snapped back.

"Yes." The Arishok looked to the sky, corner of his lip for a moment trembling into a what might have become a grimace of disgust. "More so than these other...'nobles'...all are bas, if not worse, dealing with them leaves a bad taste in my mouth."

_That's not surprising_. "Then it might please you to know that the Viscount has appointed me as liaison with the Qunari here in Kirkwall?"

The Arishok jabbed a thick finger in Garrett's direction, eyes narrowing. "The Viscount does _not_ have the power to choose who the Qunari speak to." Then, as quickly, the hand dropped and the Arishok's eyes shifted to their usual neutral look. "However, I approve, speaking to you is far more bearable than any of the other wretches in this cesspit of a city."

_How_..._kind_. Garrett clenched one hand into a fist, then felt Fenris' warning eyes on him and relaxed it. _Right_, _calm_. "If you are unhappy with the way things work here, you are free to go, in fact, I'm surprised you haven't already. A Qunari ship could have arrived months ago, had you so wished it."

"We cannot go."

Garrett threw a glance at Fenris, but the elf showed no sign of there being any danger, his cool eyes on the Arishok. Turning back to the Arishok, Garrett arched an eyebrow. "Why not?"

"Because our purpose here is not yet fulfilled." The Arishok replied, then eyed Garrett's face and spoke up again. "We are seeking something beyond the understanding of bas, until it is found, we will not leave."

_That_..._makes_ _sense_ _yet_ _not_. "What is this thing? I may not understand what it is, but I may still be of assistance in retrieving it for you." Garrett hesitated, then realised it was pointless to hold back. "I have...ways and resources you do not when it comes to finding what is hidden in this city."

If the Arishok felt insulted by the way Garrett implied an eagerness to get rid of him and his Qunari, he didn't show it. "No, this is a task for the Qunari alone." _Something_ _of_..._religious significance then_? _Or a military secret_? Garrett had a hard time picturing anything else viewed as vital that the Qunari would not hire outsiders for, however much it would have disgusted them. "But we will find it, eventually, and then we will leave."

_Ah, so you __did__ notice my eagerness to get rid of you_... There was no anger or irritation in the Qunari's eyes though, and as such Garrett met the Arishok's gaze. "As you say." He shrugged. "That said, you have not yet said why you sent for me." _Asked_! _Dammit, you were supposed to say asked_!

The Arishok didn't seem to care or even make note of the word though, his horned head bobbing in a nod. "Agreed, I did not ask for you to discuss the dealings of the Qun, nor your...change in rank in this city." Again, there was a near-grimace on the Arishok's face. "I wished to speak of you regarding the actions of a bas by the name of Javaris."

Garrett held back a groan, shifting back onto his heels. _Figures_... "He is still in the city then? What has he done?"

"He has continued to ask for the gaatlok, sending more and more offers, refusing to understand that the value of the gaatlok, as with anything of worth, transcends mere _money_." The Arishok nearly spat out the last word, though his face remained impassive. "Now, he has resorted to _thievery_." A low rumble, like the growl of a dragon, escaped from deep within the Arishok's chest at that. "The Qun does _not_ abide thievery."

"Do you wish me to find him and...hand him and this gaatlok back?" Garrett hesitated, thinking the situation over. _He's still a Kirkwall citizen, if we start allowing them to punish out citizens_..._no_. "I may find him, and return the gaatlok, or the recipe, if that's what he took. But Javaris is a citizen of Kirkwall, and I cannot hand him over. That said, thievery is not abided in Kirkwall _either_..." _Was that a flicker of amusement in the Arishok's eyes_? "...especially against a _guest. _As such I will have him punished for his crime."

A low growl escaped the Arishok, the giant leaning forward in his seat. "The crime was against the Qunari, and bas have shown themselves incapable of properly dealing with criminals..." For a moment, Garrett felt his chest tighten as the Arishok seemed ready to snap something more...only for the giant to lean back once more. "But that is immaterial, the thief is likely dead by now."

Garrett went cold. "Why do you think that?"

"Because the recipe the dwarf stole was not for the gaatlok, but for saar-qamek" Next to Garrett, Fenris shifted where he stood, a worried movement that seemed so out of place for the elf, that Garrett caught himself swallowing, despite not knowing what it was. "Not knowing how to contain it, he will no doubt release it...at which point he, and all near him, will die." The Arishok pointed a finger at Garrett. "Which is why I asked for you."

"Me?" Garrett blinked, confused. "Why me?"

"You are basvaraad, you are entitled a warning." The Arishok shrugged, a miniscule movement. "The others of this city are not."

Suddenly, Garrett caught himself taking a step forward, though neither the Arishok or his guards seemed to take notice of the movement, nor of his suddenly intense gaze. "What _is_ saar-qamek?"

"A gas, that drives all but Kossith mad with rage upon inhalation." The Arishok replied, as if speaking about the weather. "Those who smell it will slay one another, and others as well...it's a dangerous weapon, one even the Qunari are careful with using."

"And...Javaris is making it, maybe right at this very moment..." Garrett swallowed, taking a step back. Next to him, Maric approached, the dog giving voice to a low growl, eyes on the Arishok. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"The danger to you is minimal, you have been warned and you are capable enough to avoid the gas, once it appears."

Garrett went pale. "B-but...it'll kill people, maybe hundreds?"

"If the dwarf makes enough, maybe thousands." The Arishok agreed, not looking the least bit moved.

"Why...why haven't you sent out a warning right away?! Done something!?" Garrett found his face flushing, anger making his fists curl as Maric gave voice to another low growl.

"The Qunari will not protect the bas from themselves...it's their lack of purpose, their diseased minds, that have caused this, not the Qunari." The Arishok leant back, his guards suddenly moving their heads, eyeing the Mabari and Garrett both. _Careful now_... Quietly, Maric inched backwards, growl disappearing.

"And the fact that thousands will die due to _one_ man's foolishness does not...!" Garrett nearly bit his tongue, realising his arguments would fall on deaf ears. "You yourself have elves among you, elven Qunari are _not_ Kossith, they're in danger."

"Qunari know how to nullify the effect of saar-qamek" The Arishok dismissed the danger. "The other races of of the Qun are in no danger, their protection exist within themselves." _Within themselves_...?

"Tell me how to neutralise the gas then!" Garrett swallowed, suddenly scared as realisation dawned on him. _Javaris will make it in Lowtown_..._Merrill is there_..._Isabela too, Anders is close enough, and with such random violence...not only is everyone I know at danger, but afterwards_..._Maker_. "If nothing else but for your own sake! Javaris might be at fault, but once the gas has disappeared, everyone will blame _you_, not the dwarf!" _A bloodbath will ensue_!

"You are basvaraad, but still bas, my warning is enough to make you capable of saving yourself." The Arishok shook his head. "And the actions of bas are no consequence to the Qunari. In their madness, their actions make no sense. You may be right, but the Qun is the truth, we need not play your games, your..._politics_." The Arishok nearly grimaced, as if sullied by the very word. "The Qun will endure."

"I...that's..." Remember the Saarebas and its pointless death, Garrett bit down, hands clenched to his sides as he struggled not to shout.

Before him, the Arishok eyed him almost looking..._curious_.

Garrett though, found his gaze drawn to the ground, _thinking_.

_I have to get the others to safety and then_..._no, that'll take too long and by then Javaris might have_...

_The whole city could become engulfed if the man does too much though_.

_And even if not, the city will erupt into a war that might leave all I've worked for in tatters_.

_Bethany's death, Carver's leaving the family_..._for_ _nothing_...

_No_.

Looking up, Garrett shook his head. "If you won't tell me how to neutralise the gas, we are done talking."

The Arishok actually frowned at that, his words nearly a question. "I will not..."

"Then we are done." Garrett swivelled around and began marching towards the door, Maric at his side as Fenris struggled to catch up after the sudden manoeuvre.

Behind him, the Arishok called. "What will you do?"

"Stop Javaris, of course!" Garrett snapped back, anger flooding back into him.

Before him, the gate opened as the Arishok once more spoke, puzzled. "You are not obliged to do that."

"And that's the difference between you and me..." As he reached the gate, Garrett once more turned around, glaring back at the perplexed Qunari. "...I _choose_ to do what I do."

With that, Garrett once more wheeled about and marched, this time out of the already closing gates, ignoring the Arishok's gaze boring into the back of his skull.

His voice was clipped as he brushed past a surprised-looking woman carrying a basket of laundry. "Maric, go home, warn Bastile, he'll know well enough to put guards on the walls."

With a woof, the dog took off with the speed of a horse, rushing past people that screamed or jumped out of the way...some too slow as they were bowled over by the giant Mabari.

Next to Garrett, Fenris followed, tone somewhat uncertain. "I do not know the way to resist saar-qamek, and considering their effects, which I've _seen_...if you wish me to accompany you, I think it's fair to demand more gold."

"You get half again as much offered previously if you go to the barracks and warn Aveline or whoever is in charge at the moment about the danger." Garrett stopped, a sudden scream making him turn his head towards the sound...only to see dozens of guardsmen run past, towards the alienage. "Scratch that, you go to the Hanged Man and warn Varric. He'll get the word out of the danger and do all that might be necessary."

"As you wish." The elf started turning, then stopped, eyeing Garrett. "And what will you do...?"

"I'll be solving the Arishok's riddle."

Garrett started to run after the soldiers.

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for somehow always finding that extra bit of time._


	45. Chapter 45

_Maker_...

Coming to a stop, chest heaving for air, Garrett looked ahead with widening eyes.

A clamour was rising, a screaming and shrieking echoing down empty streets and abandoned roads, screams of terror, but also, distantly, _rage_.

Yet that was not what had brought Garrett to a halt.

Ahead, he could see the vague outline of a green fog. It was still far away, yet he could _sense_ it growing, lone wisps of it clutching at the roofs of the houses along the street, like some giant monster, clutching at the firm ground, laboriously pulling itself forward. The screams mainly came from within that fog, though muted, dull, as if through water.

Nearer, in serried rows, guardsmen in orange and grey stood, their partial plate armour glowing in a setting sun. Two lines of men and women, nearly shoulder to shoulder, shields and spear-tips facing the fog, impotently threatening it...or perhaps not so impotently, judging by the three ragged shapes lying in dark pools of blood by the feet of the front rank. _A gas that drives people mad_..._mad enough to charge a line of spears unarmed_? _Maker_...

Behind them, two figures stood, both familiar, one more so than the other, her auburn hair just barely visible under an unfastened helmet. The other was a less welcome sight, yet one Garrett knew to expect. _Donnic_. The man wasn't exactly ugly, but his face was dull, his stature squat...and nothing in the conversation Garrett had had with him when he'd arranged for the man to come to the Reinhart party had suggested anything special...yet for some reason Aveline was in love with him. _Maybe I just don't see it because of my earlier_..._infatuation_.

To be honest, Garrett still felt a flutter when looking at her, and a jab of bitterness when looking at Donnic...yet the way it had already gotten so much weaker...it was clear that his mother had had the right of it._ I suppose this is best, as Leandra said, she's only a captain, and we are nobles_. However right she'd been though, it still left a bitter after-taste, to think himself beguiled, to think himself so foolish...it didn't sit well with him._ I thought myself smarter than that_.

With a shake of his head, he dismissed the errant thoughts. _Now is not the time for this, think of the gas, it's right in_..._in_... Garrett looked about himself..and went pale. _Lowtown, close to the Alienage, close to_..._Maker_... For one terrified moment, he nearly began to run, to do what all else were doing, trying to save those they cared about...and then the moment passed, his resolve firming. _No, that won't save anyone. I can't stop the gas with my sword, leaving will only make things worse_..._I must stop it at the source_. Hesitantly, he eyed the gas. _Which might be problematic_.

"Garrett!" Looking away from the green fog, Garrett found Aveline and Donnic approaching, both with faces alight with consternation. "This...thing came out of nowhere, or so my guards tell me." The leader of the two shook her head. "We've had riots break out all over, _especially_ within that area...it's like...it's like they're-"

"Mad." Garrett concluded, offering Donnic a nod before looking to the fog, eyes narrowing. _What did the Arishok say_? _Smell of the fog causes madness_? _But non-Kossith have the ability to resist it within them_? _That doesn't make sense, surely the Kossith are the ones who have it in them to resist the gas_? _What could humans, dwarves or elves do to resist it_? _Maybe_..._a long hose to breathe through_? _Sounds awfully bulky and_..._no, that can't be it_..._not_ _in_ _them_...

Next to him, he could sense Aveline and Donnic exchange a puzzled look as he kept eyeing the gas, vainly trying to perceive some kind of weakness in the green mist. "Yes...mad...how did you...know that?"

"It's the work of a criminal, one thinking it a good idea to steal what he doesn't understand from the Qunari." Garrett bitterly replied, hearing the others gasp as he stared straight ahead. _Maybe a long straw that can be above_..._no, that ignores his hint_..._what's_ _within_ _me_ _that_ _I_ _can_ _use_!?_ Is it a religious thing_?! _A state of mind_!?_ Converts or not, his elven Qunari can't all be dedicated enough for that to work, even he must know that_... Garrett kept his expression carefully blank as he spoke though. "As liaison to the Viscount, I ask you to _swear_ not to reveal this information, the fallout from this will be bad enough without the Qunari being mentioned, however innocent their role might have been." He paused for a moment, letting the words sink in as he kept studying the slowly expanding fog. "Swear it now, please."

"Of course, my word is my bond, and I'm a servant of the Viscount." Aveline replied without a hint of hesitation. _Good_ _girl_. "But Hawke, something must be done, we can't just wait for this thing to dissipate...if it even does!"

"No, we can't." Garrett finally turned his head, looking to Donnic and finding a hesitant look on the guard's face. "I require your oath as well, guardsman."

"I'm not..." The man hesitated, frowning a little. Garrett might have convinced him to come to the Reinhart party...he'd even been disgustingly _eager_ once Garrett had mentioned he was asking to help out his friend Aveline...but Garrett had a feeling his own brusque manner during that time had made the man somewhat guarded against him. _I could have asked with more candour, I suppose_..._was hard enough to do with all that bitterness though_. "Begging your pardon, Serah, but I don't actually know if you _are_ a liaison and I don't think they even _have_ the power to ask such a vow from a guardsman, now I understand the importance of-"

"Donnic." Aveline interrupted before Garrett could, a hand on the other guardsman's arm, making the man's disapproving look instantly disappear as he shot the hand of the captain a quick glance before looking anywhere _but_ at it. "Trust me, Hawke knows what he's doing, there's no law against us swearing a vow, especially since I have a feeling Garrett has the good of the city in mind, and _that's_ what matters."

"I...very well." Donnic nodded, looking defeated as he turned his eyes back to Garrett. "That still leaves this mess, however."

_Good, my authority with the guard acknowledged, both with the Captain and her second in command_. Garrett dismissed the thought swiftly, he'd never doubted the loyalty of Aveline, she was a friend and ally, and by extension and within reason, so were the guard. "Agreed, this gas might well spread, and if so, more people will die and we'll have a real panic on our hands. People are hiding right now, but if it gets worse, we can expect violence on a grand scale."

"Of course, we know that, but how to stop it?" Aveline grimaced. "This...gas...must come from somewhere in the cloud, and we can't go in there." The words made Garrett once more focus on the Arishok's words. _It's the smell, the scent, that drives you mad_..._that must be the heart of the matter_. "Could we possibly...contain it?" She gave Garrett a furtive look, Donnic looking confused next to her. "You know...with some _special_ strategy...?"

_Magic_?_ Maybe, if we had time to ask Anders or Merrill, but then_..._the Templars would be over us in no time, and there's no way Meredith would allow circle mages to come out and cast spells in the city_. _Risk of escape in the chaos, them casting spells outside controlled enviroment_..._the list of __demands of circle mages is gigantic, and she's not flexible_. "I can't think of any special strategy that would be viable in this situation." Garrett grimaced, trying to think. _We must stop this, if the city_..._I've worked too hard to get to where I am to have it all fall apart now_! _Something inside me that can stop the maddening scent, what in the blazes was the Arishok talking of_? _What inside me could __possibly_..._oh_ _you've got to be joking with me_. "I'll stop this though, excuse me." With that, Garrett turned around and marched for the nearest alley, suddenly happy for the poor city-planning of Lowtown.

"Garrett? What are you talking about?" Aveline demanded, a worried edge to her words. "What do you _mean_, 'I'll stop this'? You _can't_ walk into it, don't you get that?" A pause of confusion. "Why are you walking into that alley? I can't even see you!"

"Just wait a moment!" Grunting, Garrett, pulled free a cloth from one of the pockets lining his leather armour, normally intended for cleaning a bloodied blade, he now had an entirely _different_ use in mind for it. "This better work...Maker, what I have to do to stop disasters..." Muttering in annoyance, Garrett opened up his trousers and reached down with his free hand as the other held out the cloth in front of him. "If it doesn't work...well then the Arishok just made me piss on myself...bet he'd laugh if he was capable of such..."

Nothing happened. Then Aveline called. "Garrett...?" A scratch of boots moving closer.

"Hang on!" Garrett snapped back, jumping slightly where he stood, glaring down. "Come on, you bloody...ah, there we go..." He looked away a moment later. _And now we think about something else but the warmth_..._like the poisonous gas that might drive us insane_..._if the already insane people don't kill us first_. He blinked. _Right, warmth on my hand, that's preferable to think about_.

Thankfully, it was soon over.

_Right, next disgusting part_. Garrett reached up, the cloth wet in his hands as he reached up and put it over his nose and mouth before firmly tying it together at the back of his head. _And_..._it's not as disgusting as I thought_. He breathed in...and nearly gagged. _Or maybe it is_... With that thought, he turned and marched out of the alley, turning his head so Aveline and Donnic couldn't see the specifics of the cloth over his face, and marched towards the mist ahead.

Aveline jogged after him. "What are you _doing_!? A simple cloth over the mouth won't help!"

"I know what I'm doing, just let me try this." Garrett brushed aside a hand gripping at his arm even as he reached the back of the guardsmen still facing the fog. A few glanced back and shuffled to the side, looking unsure as they watched the noble move past them to confront the fog. One of the nearest men grimaced, nose wrinkling up, the woman next to him sniffing in confusion, none said anything though.

And then Garrett was inches from the fog.

It wasn't as solid-looking as it had looked from afar, less of a goo and more like murky water viewed through a glass. Within it, he could still see the dark outline of the road, the walls...an abandoned wheelbarrow...yet visibility was low none the less, all beyond the first ten meters nothing but lime green mist, coiling around itself like a living thing wringing its hands. _Fascinating_. _Breathing it was the dangerous thing, so_... Swallowing, Garrett reached out, his hand hovering in front of the fog...and watched in fascination as little tendrils reached out, clutching after it like a living thing. _And if I_... Garrett pushed the hand in...and found himself shivering as the fog wrapped itself around the hand, the gas was chilly, like how the air would be in a Fereldian autumn. Yet now it was here, in Kirkwall, as if seeping the warmth out of the very air itself. _Fascinating_.

Behind him, Aveline loudly fidgeted as men and women of the guard inched back, nervous and confused...some half-pointing their weapons at Garrett already. Their commander was less nervous though, her tone disapproving. "Garrett, don't be a moron."

"When have I ever acted foolishly?" Garrett replied, inching closer, leaning his face forward, a nervous sweat appearing on his forehead as he moved his face closer to the fog, seeing the tendrils of it reach out for it as he came closer. _Okay, just a sniff, see if I feel any differently, that's all, just a single sniff_..._and_..._and_ _it'll_ _work_, _I'm_ _sure_...

"Well there was that one time you thought it smart to try and make a deal with Isabela..." Aveline replied with a little chuckle, one finally betraying her nervousness. "Seriously though, stop this."

"Hey, it worked, didn't it?" Garrett replied, trying to distract himself as he leant even closer, the sweat pouring from his forehead and his lips trembling_. It'll be fine, I won't go mad, it'll be fine, I figured it out, I'm sure I did_..._I think I did_..._maybe_... "And as she says...'live a little'." He pushed his face in, took a sniff, and jerked his head back. _Eugh_... As before, he nearly gagged...and then smiled. _No madness_..._I'm_ _okay_! Clearing his throat, he reached backwards and gave Aveline's hand a quick squeeze. "Keep the guards back so no one enters or leaves, I'll be back soon."

"What...? But-"

Garrett gave no chance for Aveline to argue, but plummeted into the gas. _If I'd stayed, she'd demand to know the trick herself, then she'd follow with lots of guards_..._and I don't think we want this if we find Javaris in a state that's_..._politically dangerous_. _Wow, it's cold here_. Already, Aveline's protests were a distant thing, sounds travelling oddly in the gas, or perhaps just when entering it, since Garrett could hear his own footsteps perfectly well.

_Okay, find Javaris, or rather, his gas-production_..._in_ _a_ _fog_..._potentially_ _full_ _of_ _crazy_ _people_. Garrett drew his sword, then, after a moment's hesitation, drew his dagger into his left hand, his body hunched low as he moved forward, eyes seeking movement. O_ne problem at a time, keep moving, look for where the fog is thickest_..._I think I see it moving ever so slightly from_..._somewhere ahead, so I should go that way_. Ahead there were a few stone steps. At the bottom, a fat man lay gutted, his intestines spilling out over the ground like wet rope.

Garrett stepped around the corpse, gaze darting left and right, trying to spot the killer, but seeing nothing but dark houses and abandoned pieces of clothing and various items. _Probably moved on, if I keep_-

A crash, and a window above shattered as two men hurtled through it, clawing at one another until they hit the ground. The one ending up below howled, bones snapping and breaking under the weight of the other and the force of the fall. The one above, a man in a tunic fine enough to mark him as a merchant, roared in the man's face and brought up a piece of firewood he was holding and smashed it into the wounded man's face, shattering the man's teeth. The next blow took out one of the man's eyes, as well as causing a massive crater in his forehead, silencing him forever.

The blow after that broke the man's skull.

The next smashed the brain beneath into mush.

The one after that took out the other eye and reduced everything above the man's nose to a broken mess of blood, gore and bones.

Then, the merchant looked up from the abused corpse, eyes on Garrett. _Will they come back to __their senses once the gas disappears_? _They should, so maybe_... "Hey-"

With a roar, the madman launched himself at Garrett, the blood-soaked piece of firewood held high.

With a thrust of his sword, Garrett knocked the firewood flying before he twisted his torso and took a step to the right, smashing his dagger into the chest of the still rushing madman with enough force to momentarily lift him off his feet before slamming him into the ground, knocking air and blood alike out of the man's lungs.

A hiss, and the merchant was dead, the dagger having reached both heart and lungs.

Grunting, Garrett pulled his dagger out and looked up, ready to find more opposition...and finding a solitary figure standing in the middle of the street.

"Hello...there?" Uncertain, and suddenly feeling guilty, Garrett wiped his dagger off on the tunic of the killed merchant before moving to one knee, eyeing the girl before him with worry and sympathy in equal measure.

She was no more than eight years old, her little dress as dirty as one would expect from someone living in _Darktown_...and blankly staring straight ahead, her left hand hanging limply at her side, holding onto the arm of a doll that had seen better days, the other dragging a basket after her. Only slowly did she seem to register Garrett, her dim eyes turning to look at him.

"Erm...are you okay? Where's your mother? How hasn't the fog-"

"Mommy!" With a cry, the girl, still holding her doll in one hand, reached down into the basket and pulled out a head.

_Maker_! Jumping back, Garrett stared into the dead eyes of an middle-aged woman, the head's eyes still open in shock and disbelief.

"Mommy!" The little girl threw the head aside, reached back into the basket...and drew a gore-covered knife from it.

"Wait, you don't want to..."

"Mommy!" The little girl charged, knife held in front of her like a spear, her little face twisting into a grimace of rage. "Mommy die!"

Garrett leapt to the side, sword swinging, only barely remembering to twist his wrist at the last instance.

With a crunch, the flat of his blade struck the side of the girl's head, sending her head first into the dust. A little whimper escaped her, her arms moving to push herself up...and then she collapsed back onto the ground, out cold. _Maker_... Garrett stared at the girl, suddenly unsure what to do.

_So_..._if_ _they come back from madness, and remember all that happened_..._the_ _girl_..._by_ _Andraste_..._maybe it's better to_... For a brief moment, Garrett glanced down at his sword, then he shook his head. _No, that's not for me to judge_..._and I don't kill when it's not necessary, whatever Carver may otherwise claim_. Garrett grimaced and looked away. _Right, time to move on, I better use the smaller alleys_...

After a final glance at the little girl lying on the street, Garrett turned and began to jog.

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"So you survived." Garrett growled the words.

The little warehouse he'd found in Lowtown was nothing special, but the gas within had been thick...so thick it was obviously the origin of it. Even now, having properly closed the barrels containing the source of it, the fog was still lingering in the building, little wisps of it moving around like the clouds in the sky did.

Strewn across the floor, elves lay, most of them half-naked, covered in sweat and nothing but skin and bones, tools they'd used to work with, and then to kill with, still in their hands after they had ripped one another apart. "And used cheap labour...why am I not surprised?" Garrett grimaced at the sight of some of them. "Maker, just scarecrows. I know Merrill said some had it bad but..." A shake of his head, his eyes narrowing. "Guess you'd pick the moral high ground about this though, how you're 'actually giving them a job' or something."

Before him, the goal of his search growled back.

With a sneer, Garrett looked to Javaris. "Bet their pay was just enough to keep them alive though...Fereldians don't take kindly to slavery, Javaris."

The dwarf was pinned under a fallen shelf full of metal scraps and glass, but though his legs were caught, the rest of his body was sitting upright, one hand holding a small knife covered in blood, his face marked by a wound, no doubt caused by the practically gutted elf lying atop the shelf. Though the gas had mostly dissipated, the dwarf was was still glaring at him, animalistic growls escaping him as he futilely swung his knife at the distant human. Though he was already doing less of that, his growls having been shouts not too long ago.

"Guess the gas is having less and less effect, huh?" Garrett casually moved closer, glaring down at the dwarf. "You'll come back to your senses. Then you'll use all those friends you spoke of when you refused to pay me for the Tal-Vashoth job to get away with a slap on the wrists for all of this..._madness_." The thought of such blatant disregard for lives and law made Garrett growl. "Of course, there'll have to be a trial, and you'd blame it all on the Qunari...and people would _believe_ you. Riots, protests, maybe even something close to a battle? All to cover _your_ mistake up?" Garrett shook his head with a snarl. "That about sums it up?"

Before him, Javaris growled back, though by now he was slowly lowering the dagger, enough sense having returned to realise it was no use waving it about.

"I think not." Garrett snapped back, hand coming up to finally tear the wretched cloth from his face, though breathing clearly did nothing to help his mood. "I think you should be punished as the law _says_ you should be punished. I think the Arishok is _right_ to claim that corruption stopping justice is despicable. I think I don't want to see _thousands_ more die because of you wanting to save your own skin." The sword was surprisingly heavy as he drew it, but Garrett held it steady as he pointed it at Javaris. "I'm not the Viscount, but it would be negligent of me to put this before him and the nobles controlling him." A deep breath. "By the laws of Kirkwall, for the theft of military technologies from a visiting envoy, for the killing of _hundreds_ through negligence, for the use of slave labour in all but name, for endangerment of the entire city and all its citizen...I sentence you to death."

Though his teeth were bared in a snarl, Javaris' eyes opened wide in fear and shock.

Garrett made it quick. A clean thrust with his sword, in and out before the dwarf had time to even raise his knife again.

Then he turned, and walked away, not looking back.

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"You...did it?" Before him, Aveline was looking at him with a confused grin. "You actually _did_ it? I still don't get how you could even _enter_ the gas and now...you did it?!"

"You're better off not knowing." Garrett smiled back. "But yes, the gas has been stopped. The culprit was already dead though, caught by his own gas." _And now none will know of the Qunari involvement in this, I've bought us some breathing room_. Did Donnic give him a glance at that? Garrett couldn't tell, Aveline filling his vision as she clasped his forearm in a firm shake.

"Good work." Garrett couldn't help but smile back, his worries about the Qunari-problem momentarily forgotten. "Now we can-"

"Hawke!" The shout of a stranger's voice made Garrett and Aveline release their grip of one another and turn their heads, looking beyond the line of guardsmen now facing the other way, away from whence the gas had come. Beyond them, a crowd had gathered, a throng of people that were staring and pointing. _How did I miss them_...? "Hawke!" Again, the voice called out.

Garrett turned fully to face the crowd, raising a hand and opening his mouth to answer. "Yes, what-"

"Hawke!" Another interrupted, the shout distinctly _not_ a question.

"Hawke!" A third voice called out.

"Hawke!"

"Hawke!"

"**Hawke**!" The voices mixed, the call sweeping through the crowd, fists raised in the air.

Confused, yet oddly pleased, Garrett exchanged a little smile with Aveline before turning his attention back to the crowd...and turning his raised hand into a fist and raising it higher.

The crowd exploded into a cheer, then a _chant_.

"**Hawke! Hawke! Hawke! Hawke! Hawke! Hawke! Hawke! Hawke! Hawke! Hawke! ****Hawke!**"

Smiling back, struggling not to outright grin, Garrett felt his pulse quicken.

_Well this might well have turned to my advantage all of a sudden_...

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for putting the ball in my court like a boss...seriously, how am I supposed to keep up!? :D_


	46. Chapter 46

_Mother's beautiful_.

Catching himself smiling, Garrett couldn't help but admire the regal look of the woman on his arm. While the Amell, now Hawke, heraldry in black and crimson red was somewhat too austere and sombre, Leandra had chosen to focus on the later colour, to get away from the 'funeral' look, as she had called it. The deep red of her silk dress flowed around her, reaching all the way down to the floor and going as high as the base of her neck, as well as covering most of her arms. It...as well as the somewhat gaudy, in Garrett's opinion, golden necklace and wristbands...had cost a fortune. Luckily, given his string of successes with expeditions to the Thaig in the Deep Roads, there was seemingly always more gold to dig out, as well as his growing clientèle of minor traders, wealth was streaming in faster than he could spend it._ I could never imagine having such astronomical sums, it's_..._difficult to wrap your head around_.

With Leandra in nearly all red, only a few ribbons in her dress black, Garrett had been the one chosen to pick the more sombre colour so they would not look too garish next to one another. So he ended up in a black long-sleeved tunic with golden embroidery across the arms and down the right side of his chest. To complement this, his black trousers also had golden embroidery at the end of the legs, a red sash tied across his waist in the Rivaini fashion adding the Hawke red as well as lending colour to an otherwise too sombre appearance.

Even Maric, walking at Garrett's left side...being unarmed set him on edge, so the dog would come with them, plus, he wasn't about to hide his Fereldian heritage, better to wear it as a badge of honour...wore a black collar with four rubies fastened to it. Garrett had only barely been able to stop his mother from fussing yet more over the hound...one could expect Garrett's to be patient with his mother dressing him up, but a proud _Mabari_, Garrett's or not, was a different matter.

Further to the left, Aveline and Donnic were moving side by side. Dressed in the orange and grey uniform of the Guard, they looked somewhat out of place next to the nobles. The pair also looked decidedly nervous and uncomfortable as they awkwardly hooked arms in a mimicry of Garrett and Leandra. _Looks like they're about to march into battle_. Garrett doubted they were nervous about facing all the nobles, making the reason for their appearance all too obvious. _Why did I suggest we come here together_?_ Knowing it was a crush or not, I don't like seeing this_...

In the end though, Garrett was eager with anticipation, he was about to enter the Reinhart party, with all that it implied. He would be officially approved by all the nobles, he would have an opportunity to make connections, deals, to properly entrench himself in the society...such deals and connections were all too good to ignore.

The Reinhart palace was larger than the Hawke one, though the _estate_ smaller...making for a huge central building, surrounded by a tiny plot of a garden, something most noble houses sported, houses built after Kirkwall's Hightown had grown more urban with the defeat of the Tevinters. _Still had rooms for outer walls though, that fence isn't going to hold back anyone determined_... Garrett dismissed the criticism, there were none as protective as him in Kirkwall, it seemed, or paranoid, as some surely said.

Having left the dressing hall behind and entering a gallery with artworks covering each wall, the small group was now approaching a huge set of double doors easily capable of letting them all in side by side, their shoes clicking against the marble floor as a pair of servants in the bright blue of the Reinharts' stood waiting at each side of the doorway.

Leandra's grip on Garrett's arm tightened, her voice an excited whisper. "_This is so exciting_!" Garrett looked to his mother again, finding the woman smiling broadly, nearly grinning, which he expected she would have if it hadn't been so inappropriate.

It warmed the heart to see. _Was a long time since I saw her happy_... Garrett found himself giving her a warm smile. "Yes, mother."

Noticing his tone, Leandra looked back to him...and her smile turned as warm as his.

That's when the doors opened.

Leandra let loose a tiny gasp of excitement before she'd even turned her head to see the room before them, and Garrett smiled at her eagerness to once more see the famous Reinhart ballroom as he himself turned to look at the hall within which nobles had gathered for centuries.

It was _huge_.

Garrett found his eyes widening, trying to figure out how the roof could even be _supported_ when the walls were both far apart and high enough to swallow a Ferelden _keep_. _How did they do this_...? The walls were rounded off by white marble pillars, between which there were pale blue banners with black borders of the Reinhart heraldry, the golden oak-leaf of the Reinhart charge shining in the light of hundreds of lamps. It was different on the right side of the ballroom though, there, giant windows had been put in between the pillars, showing several balconies of great size as well as giving a good view of the city beneath, shrouded in night with only a few lights visible. The Reinharts had clearly used their palace being built in a slope to their advantage.

The ceiling and floor were both covered in paintings, not an inch of pale stone allowed. Various sections of the floor and ceiling had been created by lines of gold, to allow for various scenes through history, myth and nature to be displayed without mixing them.

The doors had opened atop a dais with wide stairs leading down to the main floor, giving the entering group a good view of the crowd, something Garrett eagerly exploited, gaze sweeping over the people before him.

There were _many_ there, more than Garrett had imagined. The Reinharts had invited every minor noble, their friends, prominent figures and hangers-on alike, and though Garrett had guessed there would be many guests, what he saw inside the ballroom was enough to make a small army. _Not a very good one though_.

In a corner, Garrett saw the Viscount in his black office-robes surrounded by a dazzling amount of colourfully dressed nobles of what was likely to be minor houses. Like a flock of peacocks, trying to attract the attention of a potential mate, they had him surrounded, no doubt trying to offer their services for some office or another. _Doing what I do, except they want power through legitimacy, I legitimacy of my power_.

Dumar looked heartily tired of it, but smiled when he spotted Garrett at the stairs, even going so far as as waving, making Garrett dutifully smile back. The Viscount was exceedingly pleased with Garrett after the latter's report of the situation with Javaris and the Qunari gas, and that was understandable. The man didn't want more disturbances in an already tumultuous city...and as such Garrett's suppression of the information of where the gas had come from had put him in high regards with the 'ruler' of Kirkwall.

More nobles were crowding around an area seemingly designated as the dance floor, the men and women dancing there looked on by all too many people for Garrett's tastes. _I know mother has given me lessons, but that was in the privacy of the home_..._better avoid that area_. There was a buffet table at the far end too, long enough to reach from one end to the other, and covered with items that seemed more like artworks than actual food. _Better follow mother's lead when encountering anything strange_...

Near there, Garrett also noticed a man who, having noticed Garrett as well, paled. Garrett pretended not to notice the man though, smile pleasant as he kept his gaze sweeping the room. _Ah, that Magistrate is still in office? His son still under house-arrest, I presume_. _Better send him a gift, one that shows friendly intentions yet at the same time reminds him that I know who he is_..._he could be groomed into a useful ally with time_.

Besides that, there were plenty of servants, if their blue and black tunics and silver trays was anything to go by. And they were quietly moving between dozens of groups of nobles and other important people, carrying trays full of refreshments and treats. _The Reinharts sure now how to write a guest-list_.

Slowly guiding Leandra down the stairs, Maric, Aveline and Donnic all keeping behind the pair, Garrett caught sight of the hosts. Charles Reinhart had opted for the black of his heraldry like Garrett, a blue sash breaking up the darkness of what almost looked like a dark uniform...though neither uniform nor sash fitted all that well to his small and bent stature. His eyes were twinkling with intelligence like in the Council chamber though, and if Garrett wasn't mistaken, something resembling happiness as well.

The surprise was the woman at his arm that could only be his wife. Garrett had heard of the woman, but only when asking about her, mostly words like 'happy' and 'friendly' were used...but they had apparently forgotten to mention '_big_'. In a blue dress that looked more like a toga, Madame Lowyn Reinhart was a head taller but also at least _thrice_ the size of her husband width-wise. Her arms were the width of her husband's _legs_ and her neck thick enough to make her round face seemingly rest atop rings of dough like a cherry.

The round face was split in a wide smile as she looked up at the newcomers though, her blue eyes big and delighted, her red hair seemingly bouncing in excitement. _Well_..._friendly seems to fit the bill then_..._I better be careful though, could be a ruse_. By now she was practically _dragging_ her equally smiling husband to meet the guests. _Or not_.

Garrett, taking Leandra's gentle tug on the arm as a sign, moved to have them meet the hosts for a proper greeting. _This ought to be interesting_...

Only for a couple to interpose themselves between the Hawke's and the Reinharts. In the background, a flicker of irritation flashed across Charles' face, but Lowyn simply smiled and patted his arm, muttering something in his ear that made her husband laugh. Aveline and Donnic, apparently not about to be stopped by the new couple, simply skirted around the stopped Hawkes, the former giving Garrett a friendly nod before heading towards the Reinharts to make their introductions.

Garrett's attention had at first been on the Reinharts, to gauge their reaction to the rude interruption of the proper form to a noble's entrance, but seeing that well taken care of, he directed his gaze to those that had come into his path. _De Launcet_?

The athletically built Orlesian noble was dressed in a tight golden shirt and vest, his trousers a deep green. He was all smiles, his face, hair and beard immaculately cared for without having been oiled like some Orlesians did, it was the face of health. The woman on his arm, his wife, Garrett assumed, was a short little woman with mousy hair, blue eyes and a complexion that would probably have looked better without the frown showing between her eyebrows and the glitter of annoyance nearly completely hidden in her eyes.

"Leandra, so good to see you!" Guillaume was the first to speak, teeth flashing in a wide smile. "I've known you've been in town for some time now, yet this is the first time I've seen you! Your son is careful with his mother, eh?" Garrett caught himself frowning before the noble shot him a winning smile. "Of course, with all right, I too would guard such a jewel of a woman with my life."

"Guillaume, it's been too long." Leandra leant forward, giving the Orlesian a traditional kiss on each cheek. Garrett's mother was smiling, though looking somewhat surprised. "By the Maker, you've hardly aged a day since I last saw you, how do you do it?"

"Oh it's nothing, runs in the family." Guillaume chuckled. "And you have not lost any of your lustre, I must say, strong blood runs in our veins, no?" Next to him, his wife's frown deepened.

Leandra was not about to further insult the woman though, and turned her gaze to her. "Oh and sorry, but I do not think we have met? I'm Leandra Hawke."

"Dulci." The woman offered a curt bow, offering a polite smile Leandra's way. "I-"

"Yes, a fine woman, my wife." Guillaume grinned, arm coming around Dulci's shoulders. "From a fine Orlesian house, I suppose the Amells' were too fine a party for the likes of me though?" The last he asked with a hint of cheerfulness, eyebrows arched at Leandra even as his wife visibly tensed.

"Oh, I _am_ sorry for running off as I did, Guillaume, it was not my intention to slight you." Leandra smiled, then chuckled. "Though I suppose it worked out for the best? I got my Malcolm and you your beautiful Dulci." She smiled, somewhat melancholy as her grip on Garrett's arm tightened. "Besides, this way you avoided the magic that is in the Amell blood, I'm sure your lineage appreciates that..."

"Oh that would have been no problem_ at all_! I assure you, I would have _gladly_ taken the risk of magic for your sake!" Guillaume grinned, then shot his wife a glance, Garrett was stunned that the woman wasn't visibly fuming, and shrugged. "But such are the hands of fate. In the end, I'm very lucky and things worked out for the best, eh, Dulci?" He leant down, giving the top of his wife's head a kiss. "We both have wealth, love and our children." He gestured at Garrett while smiling at Leandra. "Your own son is one impressive man, I must say, he's impressed everyone at court."

Leandra practically beamed with pride as Garrett inclined his head in gracious acceptance of the praise. "Thank you, I'm glad to have made an impression on such a difficult group to impress."

Guillaume tilted his head back in a laugh. "And so diplomatic!" He grinned when he looked back to Garrett, ignoring the bothered look of his wife as he spoke. "Really now, it's no secret what you have gone through, I'd say impressing some pampered nobles has been a minor task in comparison." He shook his head. "But let _this_ pampered noble at least express his appreciation for your tact." The way Guillaume bowed was almost a copy of Varric's, making Garrett struggle not to chuckle.

"Where is your own son?" Leandra asked as Guillaume straightened, making the man's wife grimace. "I heard you had one? Emile?"

"Oh yes, he's...there." Guillaume nodded towards the buffet table far away. There Garrett could indeed see a man in his twenties with the hair of Guillaume as well as his broad shoulders...though despite his age, the boy was already growing bald, and his skin was sickly pale, his clothes failing to conceal that the broad shoulders were nothing but skin and bone, lacking any fat or muscle on them. His face held a mixture of Guillaume's and Dulci's features, yet his grey eyes were dull and nearly vacant as he visibly struggled to count the number of pastries on his plate. _A_..._simpleton_? "The poor boy...he has such a big heart, so much kindness in him..." Guillaume sighed, tone gentle. "He's a good man too, in his own way."

Dulci finally smiled, if only slightly, and tugged at her husband's arm, voice low. "Come, I think he needs us."

"Yes, you're quite right, love." Guillaume offered a curt bow in the direction of the Hawke's. "I hope to speak to you again, Leandra, and you, Garrett." With that, his wife pulled him away with a gentle but firm tug.

"Well...that was odd." Garrett whispered, guiding Leandra towards their hosts as he watched Aveline and Donnic move on. Beside him, Maric gave a little woof in agreement.

"I'm just glad he's doing well, and that there are no hard feelings." Leandra replied, equally as discreetly. "Me leaving my impending marriage to run away with an apostate was quiet a scandal, you know. I left him in the middle of that mess...can't have been easy."

"No easier than adapting to a life on the run with barely a copper to your name." Garrett replied, making his mother chuckle even as he raised his voice to speak to the now nearby Reinharts. "Charles Reinhart, it's a pleasure to see you again, I must thank you for your invitation. And this is your wife, Lowyn Reinhart, I presume?"

"It is!" The woman replied, sounding excited as she cocked her head to her side. "Has my husband spoken of me?" Before Garrett could reply, she continued. "He's spoken a great deal of _you_ though, seems you've caused quite some commotion in the council meetings...well good on you! My husband always complains that they nearly put him to sleep, he could do with someone keeping him on his toes!"

Surprised with the frankness of the woman, as well as how it only seemed to cause her husband to grin, Garrett replied. "Well...I'm only trying to help, I'm sure my origin in Ferelden makes me see things differently than most of my fellow nobles...for good or ill."

"Oh I'm sure it's all good." Lowyn patted Garrett's arm with a broad smile, then directed her gaze to Leandra. "And Leandra...Maker, I came to this city after you'd left, yet it still seems like I know you, you left such a mark on this city!" She grinned, looking to Garrett with a conspiratory wink. "Did you know your mother was known as the finest singer in Kirkwall? No family could afford not to invite her to their party. She also played the violin and could recite enough poems to fill an entire afternoon!" Garrett held back a snicker at the idea of his mother doing such a thing back in Lothering even as his mother gave him a warning tug at the arm. "Will you honour us with song tonight, Leandra? I'd love to hear the legendary Amell voice."

"Oh, I don't think so, I haven't had practice in...Maker...twenty years? More?" Leandra sounded shocked as she spoke the words out loud, then smiled. "Besides, I'm a Hawke now, I think it's time for a new generation to take up the spotlight." She shot Garrett a look.

"If so, your son is doing a fine job at it." Charles chuckled, eyes twinkling as he eyed Garrett. "Heard you stopped a right old mess down in Lowtown, most nobles might ignore such news, but I don't, I know where my money come from, so don't think I'm not grateful, lad." He then cocked his head to the side, smirking. "Also...what happened to those Tal-Vashoth we discussed in Council? I've heard nothing of them raiding any more."

"I had the Red Irons mercenaries deal with them." Garrett shrugged. "I had a good enough relationship with them to get them to do it for free."

"For free?" Reinhart echoed, and though he didn't raise his voice, his arched eyebrows spoke volumes.

"Well...I invited them to celebrate our latest successful expedition into the Deep Roads and then asked for their help after a few drinks..." Garrett replied. "...they might not have been happy about it, but these mercenaries don't like going back on their word, even if it involves doing free work, their reputation is worth a lot in that line of work." It had cost Garrett some trust with their captain, but that was better than other nobles thinking he would clean up their mess with his own money.

For a second, Charles just stared at him...and then he smirked, finger pointing at Hawke. "You are one crafty man...we should talk later, a shrewd businessman like yourself is one I'd like to work with."

Garrett had to restrain himself even as the arm hooked into his squeezed on tight. Instead, he simply offered a curt nod. "That sounds interesting, let's set something up later."

"Yes, _later_, this is a party, after all!" Lowyn's arm landed on Charles' shoulder as the woman shook the smaller man, feigning a pout. "My husband always wants to talk money...even on days like this..."

"Of course not, my swan..." Charles reassured his wife, lifting her hand up to kiss it, considering their difference in stature, it looked somewhat comical, but Garrett couldn't see any falsehood in the twinkle of love in Charles' eyes, nor in Lowyn's as the gesture made her giggle. "...I will not tarnish your ears with talks of simple gold, leave that to me. This is a time for _socialising_, after all." He shot Garrett a look the Fereldian couldn't quite read. "Speaking of which, have you met my daughter?"

"I...what..." Garrett blinked, completely taken by surprise. He looked to Charles' little smirk, then to Lowyn's eager grin...and finally to Leandra, who was looking back, eyebrows arched expectingly. _Ah, so when you spoke of Aveline only being a Captain_. _Yes, I see, it makes sense, given how we've barely entered the nobility again_. _With that in mind, I suppose_..._hmmm_..._feels wrong, though I guess that's the Fereldian in me. Logically_..._oh for goodness sake, it's not a proposal_. "No, I haven't, I did not even knew you had one."

"I like to keep my personal life and private life separate as much as possible, I'm glad the others don't speak of my family behind my back though." There was a hint of an 'or else' in Charles' tone, but it swiftly disappeared as he turned his head and smiled with fatherly pride. "Cecei? Ah, there you are."

The woman appeared so quickly it _had_ to have been arranged, irritating Garrett somehow as he turned his head to find the woman...and blinked in surprise.

Dressed in a pale blue gown, the woman was shorter than her father, nearly elven in stature, though curvier, despite the lack of fat one might have expected from a daughter of Lowyn. Her long blond hair hung freely down her back, a single diadem of sapphires holding it back._ Is that one of the items I sold from the Deep Roads_? _I'd never have guessed __Charles__ would buy such a thing_! Though she held her head down, Garrett could spot dark blue eyes nervously glancing up at him. Charles' voice was amused, yet gentle. "Well look up and greet our guest, my dear."

"S-serah Hawke..." The woman looked up, mouth forming a nervous smile as she looked up at him while offering her hand. "...I'm glad to meet your acquaintance, I've heard much of you."

Somewhat unused to the gesture to say the least, Garrett took the hand and raised it up to his lips. _Such odd gestures these noblemen have_... "Then you have me at a disadvantage, Cecei." Whatever she read from those words, it made Cecei's smile decidedly less nervous.

"Well there's an easy way to fix that." Leandra said, the business-like tone of her brokering no arguing. "Why don't you two go and talk while I talk with Cecei's parents? I have _a lot _of catching up to do about the coming and goings in Hightown."

Cecei looked somewhat reluctant, but knowing there was no arguing, Garrett took her arm in his and started walking away, glad to at least be out of his mother's supervision as he spoke to the woman she was suggesting as his wife. _Wife_..._Maker, where did this come all of a sudden_? "So, Cecei...I...well..." With horror, Garrett realised he didn't know what to speak of. _How does one speak to women one's supposed to_..._well_..._Andraste, have mercy, this is embarrassing_.

Luckily, Cecei noticed his stumble and came to the rescue, her head cocked to the side as she looked past Garrett and down towards the ground. "Is that a Mabari, Serah? _Your_ Mabari?"

_Oh yes, the dog, thank the Maker_. "Why yes it is." Garrett came to a halt as Cecei removed her arm and turned to face the dog that probably had twice the weight on the woman. "Maric, sit." Instantly, Maric obeyed, but not without giving Garrett a cold look. _I know, you're not a pet, but bear with it, no scaring her_.

Cecei leant forward a bit, staring at the dog. "He's _big_...are they all this big...?"

_Errr_... "Yes, more or less, there's always variation, but this is a fully grown Mabari."

"I've read a little about them, after I heard of you, I mean." Cecei cocked her head to the side, blushing slightly as she kept looking at the dog. "I heard it's rare to have a Mabari imprint on you, you must have something Maric here likes..."

"I consider myself lucky to have such a friend, yes." Garrett offered the hound a smile, which the dog reciprocated with a single wag of his short tail.

"And you named him Maric? As in the king...?" Cecei looked up at Garrett, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes before she turned them back to Maric. "I guess it's not an insult for Fereldians, because you honour Mabaris, yes?" Before Garrett could reply to the woman's surprisingly accurate guess, she continued. "I read each imprinting is unique, how did yours happen?" She shot up a nervous look. "I mean...if you don't mind me asking, Serah."

"Not at all." Garrett moved closer to Maric, hand moving down to scratch the dog behind the ear, the memory all too fresh, drawing a smile to his lips as the dog met his gaze. "We met at the camp of Ostagar, Maric spotted me with the Lothering militia and...well...jumped the fence to his pen, walked over to me and sat down with me, we've been together ever since."

"Just like that?" Cecei sounded torn between disappointment and amusement. "Wait...I read in the paper that Ostagar was a slaughter...how did you survive?" _By killing other people to distract the darkspawn, making deals with Flemeth and still nearly being killed on multiple occasions._ Cecei looked up...and pulled back at whatever she saw in Garrett's face.

Shaking his head, Garrett forced a smile. "Erm..through luck, pain and blood..." He gestured down. "Maric here saved my life...twice, at _least_, it was hard to keep track at the time."

Still looking somewhat shaken by whatever she'd seen, Cecei nodded. "I can see that...but Maric here saved your life?" She looked down to the hound. "Well aren't you a good dog?"

Instantly Maric nodded his head.

Cecei's eyes bulged. "D-did he just _understand_ me...?"

"Didn't read that, did you?" Garrett chuckled, despite his attempt not to, and reached down to put a hand on Maric's head. "Mabari are incredibly intelligent. Yes, they don't understand everything we do...but then again, we don't understand all they do." Maric playfully snapped at Garrett's hand at that, mirth obvious in the dog's eyes. "Okay, fine, you understand more of humans than they do of you, happy now?" An affirmative woof was the answer.

That's when the atmosphere around them changed.

It was so sudden, it made Garrett's hair stand on end as he sensed a presence behind him while Maric let loose a low growl.

Before him, Cecei turned pale and bowed her head. "Serah...I'll speak with you later, if you don't mind." She inched backwards and into the crowd, a crowd that seemed intent on _not_ looking at him all of a sudden.

Garrett turned around...and found himself face to face with Meredith Stannard.

The Knight-Commander was, unlike everyone else at the festivities, dressed in full suit of black plate armour, the sword strapped to her back bereft of all decorations save a single carving of Andraste in the hilt, the cross-guard marked with several notches from heavy use, a weapon for _use_, not ceremony. The woman's pale blond hair framing, crow-feet or not, a still handsome face might have made her beautiful if it wasn't for the drawn look of her, as if she was constantly disapproving of something.

"Are you Garrett Hawke?" Her tone, demanding and cold, was bereft of all warmth.

Behind her, Garrett noticed two equally armed templars stand...and suddenly he felt very naked without his sword. _If she decides to arrest me or even kill me...there's none here that'll move to stop her_. Next to him, Maric wisely didn't make a sound, though the dog moved up against Garrett's leg, making the man feel the tense muscles of the hound as it prepared to defend him at a moments notice. _Don't_... The dog didn't heed his mental command, muscles only tensing further. "I...yes."

To his relief, neither of Meredith's guards reacted, the pair looking almost bored as they eyed the crowd with thinly veiled sneers. _Meredith should have told them to put their helmets on_.

"Hmm...doesn't look as Fereldian as I had assumed."_ Ah, so she doesn't know of my brother in the order yet_? _Or_...? Garrett wasn't sure, Meredith didn't seem like the one skulking about with information, yet she hadn't become the most powerful person in Kirkwall for nothing. "Though I read on our roster of recruits that we now have a Hawke among us, is that your brother?"

For a moment, Garrett considered lying, but that would have been pointless, and all too dangerous. "Yes, it is...I hope he's doing his family justice with your illustrious order?" Garrett threw out the empty compliment even as he felt a bead of sweat run down his back. _She hasn't ordered me arrested_..._yet_..._so what does she want_...?

"He's done very well for an initiate, yes, trainers speak well of his skills." Meredith dismissed the question with a wave of her hand. _Well_..._that's good_. "However, I'm more interested in you...I think I've seen you in my papers..."

_Maker_... Garrett struggled not to swallow. "Probably during my time as a mercenary? I helped your order in tracking down some Starkhaven mages?"

"Ah yes, that ugly business." Meredith shook her head. "Only one mage repenting for his crime – I of course put him in isolation for half a year as the order dictates – and the rest killed, along with many good templars...must have been quite a battle, you're lucky to have gotten out alive." She narrowed her eyes ever so slightly at Garrett.

"I have a penchant for surviving..." Garrett noticed her eyes narrowing further, and swiftly added. "...and finishing my job, Serah. It was an honour to bring your mage back to the Circle."

"Yes, and dealing with those that turned forever apostate as well, I'm sure." Meredith nodded, a grim look on her face. "A good result." She paused then, eyeing Garrett with something akin to curiosity. "Also, you had an encounter with a Qunari mage...? He died, as I recall?"

"How do you know about that?" Garrett blurted, blinking in surprise.

"I have a vested interest in keeping all mages under surveillance, foreign as well as domestic, it's my _duty_." Meredith nearly hissed the last words, as if she'd found some implication in Garrett's words and didn't much care for it. "Also, we have that recent issue with that...mist? Caused a lot of hidden apostates to go mad and reveal themselves in an orgy of destruction, we were lucky you put a stop to it, or untold devastation could have occurred, we are in your debt."

_Hundreds__ turned mad and went on an orgy of destruction_. Garrett didn't dare say it, the correction in focus one he knew the Knight-Commander wouldn't appreciate. Instead he offered an unsure smile. "I'm glad to be of such assistance to your order, Knight-Commander."

"Yes, as _any_ citizen would be, I'm sure." Meredith smiled, though it was a cool and sardonic smile. "Still, it's amazing to find one man in the centre of so many events, always resolving issues of such a...dangerous nature." She cocked her head to the side, studying him closely. "Considering the blood of the Amells, one would be surprised to find you moving _against_ mages..."

Garrett's heart leapt into his throat. To imply he was mage-friendly and with cursed blood was an insult, and her tone implied he was somehow involved as an _instigator_ of the events he'd resolved. Yet at the same time, she didn't look like she was taunting him, more _testing_, as if he was being _interrogated_.

_Interrogated in the middle of a party, with witnesses and all_..._and she's going to get away with it_. No noble was looking his way, there was no sign of the Reinharts, not even the Viscount...Garrett was on his own. Before him, Meredith looked grim, waiting for an answer that could well doom him.

_Careful_ _now_... "I've been unfortunate in what I've been dragged into, yes, but fortunate in the way they've been resolved, so I consider myself lucky. As to the Amell blood, I'd appreciate some candour. It's the Hawke's now, and we have a family member in the Templars, as well as me who, as you say, has been of some service to the order...there is no basis to suggest otherwise."_ Or at least, none that you know of, I hope_.

For a moment, Meredith just kept looking at him.

Then her grim look turned into a cool smile.

"As you say." She bowed her head the tiniest bit. "It's good to hear that your family is finally acting as it should, magic is like a weed, and we must all work together to root it out."

Garrett struggled not to grit his teeth, Maric beside him pressing up closer to calm him. "Yes, I'm quite proud of how my family has turned a new leaf, thank you."

Meredith's smile turned a little more genuine at that. "The light of the Maker reaches even the darkest corner." _Wh_-_what_!? _What did you call my family_!? "Good day to you, Serah, it's been pleasant to speak to you, but I must now talk with the Viscount on matters of importance." With that, the Knight-Commander turned and walked away, guards at her heels.

Knowing many were watching him, Garrett struggled not to glare at her back.

Inside though, he was fuming.

8

8

8

_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for being such a good little girl._


	47. Chapter 47

"Attack."

Garrett went shield first, the lower rim of his heater shield crashing into his opponent's, knocking it sideways just before Garrett's longsword shot out like a dragon's tongue...only to be pushed to the left by a sweeping parry that turned into a thrust towards Garrett's midsection, making him pull back.

"No-no, remember that your armour isn't just protection. Just like the shield, it's a weapon, that strike had no chance of getting through, so advance! Cut down my room to manoeuvre! _Aggression_!"

Growling, Garrett moved to his right, forcing Bastile to turn to the left, making the older man move the left foot, the one with the limp...although, to be honest, Garrett barely noticed any difference, despite Bastile's claims that the injury was enough to judge him a 'cripple'. Around them, the training yard was silent, only pale pillars watching in the minimal light of dusk as their feet moved through the soft sand.

"Good! Always go for the weakness of your enemy!" Bastile boomed the praise, punching yet another hole in Garrett's belief of how Chevaliers fought. "If he's afraid, terrify him. If he's confident, encourage that and draw him in. If he's bleeding, let him bleed until he can barely stand. If he's in a frenzy, let him exhaust himself on your shield. If he's proud, taunt him. A fight isn't won by sword and shield alone. You do not live long if you go into combat hoping to win, you live long if you've given yourself the victory before even engaging!" Bastile's sword darted out, though for once Garrett saw it coming, and slashed down hard, his blade hitting the Chevalier's at the base with all the force he could muster.

Any other warrior, and the weapon might have ended up in the sand. But Bastile's grip and wrist was like iron, and the warrior merely turned the force striking his blade into a swing of his own, the addition of the force from Garrett's blow making the Chevalier's blade whoosh through the air as it scythed over Bastile's head and down towards Garrett's.

He barely dodged in time, leaping back and to the right, once more forcing Bastile to turn and face him. "Good, always watch the head, the helmet may protect it, but a blow can still daze and confuse, and in a duel, that spells disaster." Bastile shook his own helmeted head. "But you're still too passive, _attack_! I've seen your aggression before, the plate armour should only _encourage_ it, not slow you down!" Garrett hesitated, still not fully comfortable in the big suit of plate, despite knowing he was nearly as agile in it as he had been in the chainmail. "Or are you perhaps sluggish from your festivities? Should we perhaps wait until you feel more yourself? I'm sure a battle will _wait_ for you to be ready for it..." Bastile snorted as Garrett tried a thrust that simply bounced off the Chevalier's shield. "Don't think me deaf, I know you lost your sister in the Deep Roads, perhaps if you had been less of a _slouch_ then, she'd _still_ been alive?"

Garrett's vision turned red.

With a crash, he slammed into Bastile, shield pinning into shield as Garrett moved to the right, pushing hard as Bastile was forced to turn and push at the same time with his weakened leg. Garrett's sword darted high over their locked shields at Bastile's visor, only to skim against a shoulder-plate as the Chevalier twisted his head away. Bastile's own sword thrust from below, up...and gripped onto Garrett's shield from the inside before the man suddenly pivoted counter-clockwise.

Garrett stumbled forward, foot tripping over Bastile's...and found himself airborne for half a second as Bastile threw him like a wrestler at the docks would have.

Then he was on his back, Bastile's knee in his chest and the tip of the Chevalier's blade pressing against where Garrett's helmet was joined with the rest of the armour, the warrior gripping his blade with both hands, one across the blade and the other at the grip...ready to firmly wedge the blade in for a single killing thrust.

Sighing, Garrett went slack while gritting his teeth. "You went for my weakness."

"Yes, Serah." Bastile rose to his feet, tossing his blade aside before reaching down to offer Garrett his hand. "However, the aggression could have worked to your advantage, had you remembered our lessons about how to stand and what moves to execute. At the locking of the shields, when I was still recovering from the impact, I believe a right step-elbow trip would have worked well."

"Of course, you're right...such a basic one." Garrett grimaced as he reached up, gripping Bastile's forearm and letting the veteran help him to his feet. "I'll remember next time."

"Do that." The Chevalier looked around the yard. "Ah, lady Amell...I believe that is my cue to leave." Garrett looked to where Bastile was looking, and indeed found his mother standing at the entrance to the training yard, still in her dress from the party, despite the time of the day. "Serah, with your leave." The Chevalier bowed and moved towards the exit even as he spoke. "Tomorrow we'll deal with fighting against polearms, unarmoured and armoured...as well as how to use them ourselves, of course. Also, the theories of mounted combat against them, if we have the time."

As the Chevalier disappeared through the doorway, Garrett found himself chuckling at the way his mother was shaking her head. "That man hurts my son and then goes on to speak about how he'll do it next time...I'm not sure why you put up with that."

"Well..." Garrett moved towards a wooden table hidden in the shadows between two pillars, his hands unfastening his helmet with mechanical practice. It went far faster to take it off and on with help, but Bastile had cautioned against that, a man shouldn't be used to assistance in putting on his armour, for then he might be at a disadvantage when on campaign. _Hopefully, that'll never happen, but it's still good advice_. "...I _did_ ask him to train me as Chevaliers do, mother. In fact, I think he's holding back from some of the harsher regimen."

"Good, in Ferelden, nobles might take pride in scars, but I don't want them on my boy." Leandra snapped, the sound making Garrett smile as he put the helmet onto the table and started working on removing his gauntlets. "Why are you even training now? Just after the Reinhart party? Surely it could have waited until tomorrow?"

_I needed to work off some anger after Meredith publicly insulted our family_. Garrett was glad the shadows concealed his face. "Class waits for no man, mother, if I'm not disciplined with this, I might as well quit."

The way Leandra's face shifted, Garrett guessed she wouldn't oppose that in the least. Still, her tone was diplomatic. "As you say, son." She took a step forward before leaning against one of the pillars surrounding the training yard. "So...what did you think? Did you enjoy the party?"

Now with his hands free, Garrett ran his fingers through his sweaty hair with an appreciative sigh. "I'm happy we went. By the end of the day I had made quite a few connections, I expect several business deals to be made within the month." _In particular, I hope to get a call from Reinhart, even if the deal ends up mostly helping __him__ financially, I could use his political muscles in the Council_. A glance at Leandra's bored eyes, and Garrett added. "It's also good to know that we've finally been accepted as nobles socially, all nobles I spoke to seemed to treat me as an equal." _Except for Meredith_. To be fair, Garrett didn't think she'd consciously tried to offend him or humiliate him publicly, she'd treated him as if the only thing of importance had been his relation with magic and its practitioners, as if the Templars and their order existed in a vacuum beyond politics and normal life. If it was so, it was frightening, but also made her _predictable_...Garrett was already trying to think of ways to politically curtail her power and return Kirkwall to secular rule.

"I think the Reinharts arranged that simply by inviting us, dearie." Leandra noted with a little smile, a smile growing larger as Maric suddenly trotted through the doorway behind her and to Garrett, the dog panting from the run he'd been out on. "Mabari and master alike hard at training...it's like I have a new son at times." Her chuckle lacked mirth, as did Garrett's their thoughts too easily drawn to Carver that had yet to write a single letter, despite Leandra sending two of her own. "You enjoyed your run, Maric?" The dog gave a woof of appreciation as he came to a stop next to Garrett, watching the man unbuckle his breastplate, as if wishing to help out, or perhaps memorizing how to, for all Garrett knew. "Anyway, I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, means you won't protest _too_ much when the next one comes up." Garrett smiled at Leandra's teasing tone, whatever little protests he'd had about being dressed up and the cost for Leandra's jewellery had mostly been for show, to replace the void Carver had left...but it was good to hear his mother appreciated it. "Did you have any interesting conversations...?"

Knowing what Leandra had in mind, yet still somewhat reluctant to think about it, Garrett stalled for time. _It was just so_..._sudden, and the idea is so strange from what I was given to expect from my life as a farmer in Ferelden_..._being married off was not on the table then_. _At least she's nice_... "Oh yes, quite a few. Madame Reinhart is a pleasure to speak with, she's so eager to be friendly, not as reserved as other nobles might be, fearing for their dignity." Garrett cocked his head to the side, enjoying the little sigh his mother made. _Okay, I can see why Carver kept bugging her as a child_..._maybe I should have joined in while I had the chance_... "I also had a friendly chat with one of the magistrates, the man is quite beside himself with an issue over a lost friend, but still put up a brave face. I admired that." _And if my promised aid __does__ find the brother, I'll have both him and the Magistrate with the foul son more or less in my pocket_._ Always a good thing to control the courts when the crimes in Lowtown become an issue_...

"Yes, I suppose that was...nice." Leandra replied, clearly impatient to hear more about Cecei and Garrett...the two had, after all, spoken at length after Meredith had left. _Thank the Maker she did, never seen a party get so forced before while she was there_. "Also, I was glad to see Aveline managing so well at the party, didn't think she had it in her to be honest. Then again, she was mostly speaking to Donnic..."

Garrett smiled at that, both wistful and amused at the mention of Aveline. _Needling me for a reaction, mother_? _Parents_..._always so curious about who their spawn fancy_. "I'm glad for it, she deserves happiness, and I want her to have it." With a grunt, Garrett reached down to work on the armour covering his waist and legs. "Same goes for you, mother, although...maybe not seek it with De Launcet? He's a married man and given how you were supposed to marry him but ran off...him divorcing and marrying you would likely cause a lot of whispers."

Leandra scoffed a that, amused. "Me and Guillaume? Don't be absurd, he's a happily married man and with a lovely wife. Many nobles are set to marry one another before plans are changed, there's nothing odd about it." Garrett shot her a look, finally getting a greave off his leg "Just because he was eager to see me again doesn't imply romantic interest, we were close friends before, you know."

Garrett arched an eyebrow in surprise. "I didn't know that." _Then again, you hardly ever speak of your time before you ran off with father_. "Very well then, I was mistaken, just...don't give him any ideas, you're still a beautiful woman, after all."

"_Still_? How gracious my son is with his praise." Leandra chuckled. "But I see your point, I'll try not to touch him in any inappropriate places." Garrett, like any good child, shuddered at the thought. "Now, spill it, no more wiggling out of it..." The woman advanced further, unto the sand of the training yard. "Cecei, how did she strike you?"

Garrett sighed, finally getting off the last piece of plate and dropping it onto the table. I'll take care of this properly tomorrow. He moved into the yard as well, forcing a smile. "She's...nice." _Knows much from her studies, but doesn't think on it, it's just facts to memorize, not to debate_. _Kind, gentle but little else_. _I intellectually see her as an acceptable choice, but you said it doesn't work like that_... The thought was surprisingly painful. "If you expect me to ask for her hand after a single day, you're mistaken though."

Leandra chuckled. "Of course I don't, silly!" The chuckle turned into a gentle smile. "But that wasn't a 'no'...it's still a possibility?"

"I...suppose." Garrett admitted, feeling a little tense at the idea of rushing into a marriage._ Especially when I apparently don't know what love is_... "Why are you so eager for this though? Don't think I don't realise that you and the Reinharts spoke of this beforehand."

To her credit, Leandra looked guilty at his words, though it quickly turned into a smile. "Oh I don't know...is it so bad to want my oldest son happy?" Garrett arched an eyebrow, making her roll her eyes. "And perhaps I want to give you a little _push_ to get this?" She shook her head, smiling. "You're never going to find a girl in your _library_..." Taking a pair of steps forward, she reached out, gentle hands brushing Garrett's forehead. "I just want to see you happy..." A smirk. "...and maybe some grandchildren?"

Garrett smiled back, taking Leandra's hand in his. "We'll...see. And I _am_ happy, mother, don't doubt it."

Leandra chuckled at that. "Son, you barely know what happiness _is_...at least not the one coming from a companionship outside the family." She released Garrett's hand and turned, smiling back at him as she began to walk away. "Just...think about it."

Garrett, suddenly unsure, watched his mother leave, then frowned. "I'm not alone..." He looked down at Maric, scratching the Mabari's ear. "...am I?"

Maric's answer was an uneasy whine.

No one else was around to answer.

8

8

8

_Well_..._this_ _is_ _nice_.

Garrett, sitting in the comfortable chair of his library, glanced over at the elf sitting in the other available chair and caught himself smiling. He'd _missed_ studying, to really sit down and read for a good hour or two...or maybe even three...and he'd certainly missed doing so with _company_. This was the fourth time Merrill had come over, she'd taken his offer of using the library seriously, and Garrett found the excuse to keep her company a great way to get away from paperwork Bodahn did so willingly anyway, if only for a little while._ I've done most of my work anyway, and these moments are too few and far between to pass up_.

There was a table between them, a table with the plate of cheeses and bread upon, though mostly forgotten...Garrett hadn't forgotten how hard it was to stay fed in Lowtown, and after what he'd seen of the elves that had worked for Javaris, he made a point of always serving food when Merrill came around. Merrill, however, was poor at eating when she really got into a book...which was most of the time. _Like Bethany_.

The thought was sad, yet at the same time curious. Garrett found it hard to really draw many similarities between the two women, when it came down to it. They both might be poor eaters when stuck in a book, not to mention mages, but that was about _it_ for what they had in common.

Bethany had been quiet and obedient, Merrill could get quite loud and _certainly_ didn't take orders well. Bethany had, when it came down to it, been a reluctant study, one who did it because it was _necessary_...Merrill on the other hand _loved_ it. Bethany had, in lieu with being obedient, always never been one much for discussion...Merrill did it _all_ the time.

And Garrett found the way it influenced their studies _intriguing_.

Even now, he could tell Merrill was bubbling with excitement over something new she'd read, he could see it in how her usually smooth forehead wrinkled up a little between her eyebrows, how she bit her bottom lip...not to mention the way her right foot started to tap the chair's leg. She wanted to speak of it, _discuss_ it, bring forth theories and _debate_...and Garrett had found that new part of his studies as rewarding as the actual reading, if not _more so_.

With a little smile, Garrett put a wooden stick between the pages of his own book, closed it and carefully laid it on the table before turning to Merrill, expecting her to speak in the next moment.

The woman didn't disappoint, within two heartbeats, she'd snapped her book shut, pulled her legs up until her knees nearly met her chin and turned a big smile his way. "This book says the dragons became extinct around the fifteenth year of Steel, but we know that's not true, they came back in this age."

"Yes, seems the Pentaghast family overstated their achievement." Garrett agreed with a nod. "Dragon's are supposed to be intelligent, no? Maybe some hid? Thedas is not the only place in the world, for where else did the Qunari come from?" _The Arishok has at least been soothed, he was pleased to hear about Javaris' death_..._odd that he simply believed me about no recipe of the gas being found though, could he somehow see me being truthful, or was it simple trust_? _I don't understand those Qunari, not truly_... "Even if the dragons aren't intelligent enough, when animals become rare...well it's easy to miss one or two."

Merrill giggled at that, grinning at him as she cocked her head to the side. "They _missed_ one or two dragons? The house-sized flying things that roar a lot and fly for _miles_ to find food?"

Garrett chuckled at that, inclining his head. "Well...yes, fair point, but they could still have flown away to somewhere they weren't hunted."

"I suppose..." Merrill looked away, big green eyes shining. "I bet there are some beautiful lands out there, things we've _never_ seen before..." A dreamy sigh, and she turned her attention back to Garrett. "Yet the dragons _have_ returned...why do that? Are they not afraid of hunters coming back?"

"You'd think so..." Garrett frowned, hand coming up to scratch the forgotten stubble on his chin, making Merrill's lips curl in a smirk. Last time she'd been over, Garrett had gotten a telling off by Leandra for forgetting to shave right in front of the elf...but that was one lesson he was bad at learning, which Merrill was obviously noticing. "...maybe they became too many wherever they fled and simply _had_ to come back here?"

"Well...I..." Merrill frowned, struggling for words. "..._no_?" Garrett arched an eyebrow, making the elf blush. "It's only been _two_ ages since they were hunted, and dragons take nearly a hundred years to start a clutch and to grow into fully grown dragons...they _couldn't_ have become so many that fast...I think." She shook her head, smile unsure as she continued. "M-maybe they had already existed in that other land and grown to become too many? But...apex predators don't often become too many like that, do they? And if they're intelligent...didn't they realise the danger of being near hum-_people_?" Fidgeting nervously, she waited for Garrett's reply.

"Well...dragons are a bit of a unique species...but I see your point." Garrett easily ignored her 'human' stumble, they were both still struggling with certain issues, but when it came to one another, they'd made peace, he felt. "You've really stumped me, actually...maybe we should read on and see if anything implies an answer?"

"Yes, maybe we can find it." Merrill smiled, reached out and picked up her goblet from the table, taking an eager sip from the weak wine Garrett liked to serve. Holding the cup in both hands, it was a cute detail how big it was for her small hands, she held the cup close to her chin as her eyes turned glassy with thought. "They must have a reason though..."

Garrett chuckled at that, it was rare to find someone as eager for knowledge as him, in fact, he think Merrill even _surpassed_ him. _Didn't think that possible_...

That's when the door opened.

Garrett frowned at Bodahn as the dwarf entered, irritated with the interruption and not too pleased with the lack of knocking. "Yes, Bodahn? We're in the middle of something here."

"I'm terribly sorry Serah...and Miss." The dwarf bowed his head in apology, though his eyes were alight with worry about something else but manners. "There's a letter for you though, and I thought you should read it right away." 

"And _why_ did you think this...?" Garrett asked, a wary tone in his voice.

"Oh, I haven't opened it, Serah, I know my place." The dwarf's head bobbed eagerly as he moved forward and handed a brown piece of parchment to Garrett, the unbroken seal that of the Circle tower's. _The First Enchanter_? _I think we only briefly met during the Reinhart party, his templar guards made it an awkward conversation_..._what_ _could_ _he_ _want_? "But it was delivered by a somewhat shabby-looking person, said he worked for Anders'...'organisation'? Something about contacts...sorry, it didn't make much sense, and I think that was the intention."

"Ah, thank you, you did the right thing." Garrett moved to open the letter, forehead wrinkled in a frown.

Bodahn, leaning back and forth where he stood, shook his head as Garrett opened the letter. "Scary things with those templars and Circle mages if you ask me, too much hush-hush and hostilities...it's no fun working side by side if you keep glaring at one another, I can tell you." A shrug. "Maybe that's why Meredith is having that new keep commissioned? To keep the templars all in one place instead of constantly around the mages?"

"They're building a new keep?" Merrill asked, making Garrett briefly smile, only the elf could miss such an announcement.

The smile was short-lived though as Garrett opened the letter. "Yes...and I suspect it's because Meredith has recruited so many templars she can't _fit_ them in the circle." He checked the signature. _That is __not__ the First Enchanter, that's that boy we brought back to the circle after that mess with Starkhaven circle_. _This can't be good_. "Of course, she might also _believe_ that 'blood mages might infiltrate our ranks if we sleep in the same place' argument she gave when the Viscount asked about it...though the level of paranoia required for that seems too great even for her." _Can't believe he __asked__ her about it...it's the Viscount's land and the templars didn't even __pay__ for it, they simply __took__ it_. _Not to mention that building a fortification like that within the city without approval from the Viscount is horribly wrong, I had to jump through every hoop to get my modest fortifications_...

"S-so this keep...it'll be...wh-where?" Merrill asked, obviously nervous, making Garrett shoot her a sympathetic glance before looking back to his letter...and his eyes narrowed at what he read. _Oh this can't be right_..._you_..._damn_ _fool_.

"Where Lowtown and Hightown meet, I believe, to the east...a far way if you want to get to the circle if you ask me, but I'm sure Meredith has her reasons." Bodahn shrugged. "They're already tearing down the houses that are in the way."

"And paying those losing their homes a trifle in compensation." Garrett muttered, reading the letter again to be sure he'd understood the boy correctly. "Add to the fact that I believe the templars will have city taxes fund at least half the project, and you can colour me _unimpressed_...it's nothing short of robbery."

Bodahn shifted where he stood, not surprising, most took care not to critique the templars, and though one really only needed to worry in public, Garrett could understand the dwarf's fear. "Well...maybe it's a bit harsh, yes, but at least it puts many people to work."

"Yes, I'm sure paying people minimum wage with money they themselves paid in taxes to build something that won't increase the city's wealth or their own quality of life will be a great benefit to us all..." Garrett dryly retorted, growling a curse under his breath as he folded the letter. "That stupid...Bodahn, could you send messengers to my friends? Aveline, Varric, Fenris, Anders...you know the group...and ask them to come here?" _How does one __forget__ that the blood mage leading you left his books around in caves for anyone to stumble over_?! _Someone finds them, brings them in and suddenly Meredith will ask a lot of questions, questions leading to __me_..._Maker damn that fool_.

"Of course, Serah." Bodahn bowed and made his exit swiftly, no doubt eager to get away from an uncomfortable subject.

Garrett, watching the dwarf leave, grimaced. _That evidence must be destroyed, and knowing how blood magic works, it won't be the simple work of a fire_...

In the other chair, Merrill fidgeted. "Garrett...this new keep...?" He looked to her, blinking in surprise at how pale she'd gotten. "It means the templars will be throughout the city more than before, doesn't it...? Like...on the streets and such? _Everywhere_?"

"Don't worry." Garrett offered a reassuring smile, reaching over the table to put a hand on her knee. "I won't let them take you, nor hurt you."

To his surprise, Garrett found himself meaning it.

8

8

8

_A thank you to Abdyos Jackson for taking it like a champ._


	48. Chapter 48

_Wait here, Miss_.

_Ha, good one_...

Softly chuckling at the memory of the servant that had tried not to give her a dirty look for _daring_ to enter the Hawke estate dressed as she was, Isabela sauntered down the corridor she wasn't supposed to be in. Surprisingly, she found no urge to nab any of the items she caught sight of as she walked down hallway after hallway, it was too easy, not to mention that it felt wrong to do so against a man willing to pay her. _Maker, Merrill and Garrett are rubbing off on me, I better stop hanging out with them or I'll become a good person_. Shaking her head in dark humour, Isabela grinned. _Yeah, like that'll happen_.

She could hear something in the distance, coming from Garrett's study, Isabela had only been there once, so she knew there was nothing of interest there...but there were always _people_ of interest...and Garrett had surely invited her for a reason_. Surely he won't complain if I come early_..._though, I may not announce myself at first, have to make sure I don't disturb him, after all, yep_..._look at me, all polite_...

Smirking, Isabela sauntered over to the closed door and knelt to look through its keyhole. Sadly, someone had inserted the key, but a twist of her head allowed Isabela to hear the voices at the other side clearly enough. _Ohhh_..._this ought to be good_.

"No, Anders, and I'm surprised you're asking, you should know me better than that by now."

"But why not? You're no friend of Meredith and your own sister-"

"_Don't_ bring my sister into this." Garrett snapped, clearly his patience was waning. _Ohhh_..._he sounds so manly when he does that_... "I'm not turning you in and I'm hiring apostates into my expeditions, but that does not in any shape or form mean I have a desire to promote _rebellion_!"

"But you said Meredith is being unfair and that the circle is a poorly designed institution!" Anders snapped back, heat in his voice. _Only time you can make him passionate, talk magic_..._what_ _a_ _dull_ _man_.

"And that means I wish to decapitate the Knight-Commander and burn down the circle tower and all the templars?" Garrett sighed, and Isabela could practically _sense_ him rubbing his temples. "Why is it that everyone I meets want to go in for one extreme or the other? Fenris would have every mage tranquil, you want complete freedom-"

"And what's wrong with that!?"

"Because every child with magic ability should have _some_ training forced upon them so they do not become a danger to themselves and others, heck, I wouldn't oppose some schooling for _every_ child, simply to curb crime, but that's another issue." Garrett grunted. "But that's not the point, the point is that you're being exceedingly impatient, you want a _revolution_-"

"What mage _wouldn't_!?"

"And revolutions are foolish things-"

"Andraste herself-"

"Stop interrupting." Garrett growled, the sound of floorboards creaking revealing that the man was pacing. "Andraste started a revolution against the Tevinter Imperium, yes, and do you know what was so amazing about it? Not that she had divine favour, or that she worked with elves or had successes on the battlefield...no, the amazing thing is that it was _successful_." The man came to a stop. "I could get you a dozen books from my library and point to dozens upon dozens of revolutions against the Imperium, and then dozen of more against other countries and institutions...and each one is mostly just a footnote since they _fail_. More often than not, revolutions _fail_...and do you think the templars would be _lenient_ would your own revolution fail?"

Anders' silence was deafening.

"Now, I'm already taking steps to curtail the Templar's power here in Kirkwall, it might not be directly relating to mages, but by doing so, I'm making them less capable of simply stomping all over us, I'm making them come to the _negotiation_ _table_." Garrett grunted, a creak revealing that he was sitting down. "I do this slowly, _diplomatically_, because we _don't_ want it to come to blows with an army nearly _ten_ times the size of the city guard and noble retinues combined. And even if it wasn't so, what do you hope to accomplish with a bloodbath in the city? Change? The entirety of Thedas already view mages with suspicion thanks to the Chantry, you want the mages to _confirm_ these suspicions? You'd only make the persecution of mages _worse_."

"You say you're doing this as if it's a favour to me, but anyone with half a brain can see it also benefits the nobles, ergo, _you_." Anders growled back.

"And what's wrong with that? Must my actions benefit only a single group? You know me as a friend of mages in general, a _reasonable_ man, have I ever made you doubt this?" Garrett sighed. "My actions may only benefit the nobility at the time, but do you _honestly_ think my memory of my sister so short? You don't think I'll take the debate of how the circle works once the balance of power with the templars is more even?" He raised his voice, no doubt stopping whatever protest was on Anders' lips. "And yes, a debate, _not_ accusations, _nor_ threats _or_ fighting in the streets...a _debate_. There _is_ a middle-ground between complete freedom and captivity for mages, a point where mages can be educated _without_ a sword hanging over their neck. My sister _found_ that middle-ground, others might enjoy a different kind, but there _should_ be alternatives to the Chantry's model."

"What you speak of-"

"Is a _reform_, not a revolution, not something bloody and prone to fail, something _realistic_. Something slowly evolving into a thing that _all_ are comfortable and happy with." Garrett snapped. "My city won't turn into a battleground. Much better to, as Varric says, make everyone happy with a good deal."

"_Your_ city?"

"It's a figure of speech. I-"

"You speak of change, of debate, of..._words_." Anders voice rose, passion in it. "What words will comfort the raped mage in isolation? Or the dozens of families learning their child has been made tranquil every day? What words will make up for mages killed for speaking up against their captors or for doing some slight wrong? What _words_ will mend the wounds caused through history of families torn apart and lives destroyed!? How will _words_ make that better!?"

For a moment, Garrett was silent, and Isabela shivered as she sensed the man looking at Anders with those calm eyes of his. When he spoke, it was softly but firmly. "And how will _blood_ make it better? Will it undo the rapes and those made tranquil? Will it bring back the dead and mend broken families?"

Anders was as silent as the grave.

Garrett's tone softened. "Anders, this is _Justice_ speaking for you, it's too extreme to be logical, and you are a smart man, you _know_ what a revolution would do, who would end up on the losing side."

"I...I..." Anders hesitated, his voice shaking slightly. "It's just..._hard_...you don't see it all, you don't hear the stories those who come to me tell..."

"Then I'll come by, and you can have them _tell_ me." Garrett replied, calm as a rock. "It won't sway my opinion though, not of how we must go about this."

"_We_?" Anders cleared his throat, sounding surprised.

"You're not alone, Anders. Now if-"

The angry clearing of a throat made it impossible for Isabela to hear what Garrett was about to say...not that she was trying anymore as she spun around on her knees, looking up at whoever had caught her snooping with her heart jumping into her throat.

The whole gang was there, seemingly formed in a wedge facing Isabela.

At the back on each side, Varric and Fenris stood, both with their arms crossed over their chests. Fenris' eyebrows were arched in clear amusement, and while Varric's were arched as well, it was more ambiguous, as if the dwarf was torn between amusement and disapproval.

A step ahead of them, Merrill and Aveline stood, the former wringing her hands close to her chest and face red with embarrassment on Isabela's behalf, the later with a face dark with fury.

The one _really_ drawing Isabela's notice was the one at the front of the wedge though.

Maric's dark eyes seemed to have a fire burning deep within them, eyes now _fixed_ on Isabela's throat. And the growl emanating from deep within the Mabari's chest was so low Isabela could barely hear it, yet sent a frightened shiver down her spine. _You're very big from this angle, and when angry_..._err_..._nice doggy_...

As if sensing her fear, the dog's growl turned _louder_, lips curling back to reveal dozens of slavering fangs...

_Shit_.

Isabela _sensed_ the dog being about to leap...yet as she recoiled, nothing happened, Aveline putting a hand on Maric's head, stopping the hound with a silent command. Though judging by the look of the dog, it was merely agreeing to _pause_, not yet ready to stop. Aveline's voice was as much a growl as the dog's though. "Isabela, does Hawke condone you spying on him now?"

"Errr..." Blinking, Isabela glanced over the Merrill, then Varric...and felt something grip a hold of her heart as the memory of her last conversation with Garrett came back with stark clarity.

"_Shape up, if you keep doing things like this, I'll feel inclined to not only protect myself by cutting all ties, but make sure the likes of Merrill and Varric distance themselves from you too_."

_Oh no_.

"Well? Speak up." Aveline snapped, the others remaining silent, not even _Merrill_ speaking up in Isabela's defense, the elf busy staring at her feet and blushing herself to death. "Perhaps we should just ask him...?"

"Please don't." Isabela swallowed, surprised with the squeak that was her voice.

Aveline blinked, looking stunned as she removed her hand from Maric's head, the dog sitting down on its haunches, head cocked to the side, eyes fixed on Isabela. "I...what did you say?"

"I...I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done this but..." Isabela bit her bottom lip, moving closer to Aveline on her knees as she shot Merrill a worried glance. _I_..._really don't want to lose her friendship_..._Maker, what's wrong with me_? "...please don't tell Garrett? I'm in enough trouble with him as it is and...it won't happen again, but..._please_...I should have thought ahead...I...I'm sorry." _Maker, I __am__ bad at apologies_..._and_ _begging_...

For a moment, Aveline just stared at her. Then she looked down to Maric, who huffed and looked back, lips once more covering his fangs, the tension in his muscles gone. "Huh...fine...but this isn't a favour to _you_, I just want to spare Garrett the headache...plus you look pathetic, it would be like kicking a puppy."

"Oh thank you!" Isabela inched closer, chest shuddering in relief as she smiled up at Aveline. "You're a good girl, you know that, right!?"

The Captain's cheeks flushed so slightly it was barely noticeable, more openly, she rolled her eyes dramatically and offered a hand. "Just get off your knees, you're not in the alley behind the Hanged Man."

Taking the hand, Isabela chuckled in relief and amusement and pulled herself onto her feet. "Wow, that was specific...Aveline, you voyeur, didn't think you had it in you." At the back, Fenris softly chuckled, making Isabela shoot the handsome elf a wink, to her pleasant surprise, the elf winked back. _Wow, so he's not __always__ frosty_..._good_ _to_ _know_...

"Oh shut up, whore." Aveline pulled her hand away with an exasperated sigh, refusing to look at Isabela. _Oh dear, she probably walked by me and some guy while on patrol and now she's all embarrassed about it_..._how_ _cute_! _Yet_..._she __did__ just save my hide_. With an immense effort, Isabela forced herself not to tease the Captain about any such encounter. "Now, can we just move on, or does anyone disagree with my decision?" She looked around, but no one said anything. Merrill was grinning, Varric looked amused and even Maric seemed mollified by Isabela's show of submission. _Could probably smell me meaning it_..._dog's clever_. "Good."

With that, Aveline moved past Isabela and gave the door a firm knock.

Moments later, Anders opened the door, letting the group in.

Garrett was standing behind his desk, hands on his desk as he leant forward. First, his gaze darted to Merrill, offering her a smile. _Huh_...? _Kitten, we need to gossip_... Then to Varric, another smile. _Well who doesn't like him_!? Then Aveline, a nod and polite smile. _Oh yeah, Donnic, and she's still oblivious, silly man-woman_. Finally, his gaze moved to Isabela...and she felt herself holding her breath as he offered a polite nod. _Well_..._something at least, and none have ratted me out yet_. The man did the same to Anders and Fenris, then moved his hand down to scratch Maric behind the ear as the dog happily trotted up to the man's side, looking as dangerous as a puppy now, in sharp contrast to just a few moments earlier.

"Ladies, gentlemen..." Isabela and Varric both chuckled at the choice of words, the pair exchanging an amused look at the description of the band of rogues the man was speaking to. "...I have a job for us, like in the old days."

There was an unanimous raising of eyebrows at that.

Garrett's smile was grim. "We're going book-shopping."

The group exchanged curious looks, but it was Varric who finally commented. "That line was just...just _awful_, Hawke..." The dwarf kept shaking his head with a dramatic sigh. "...awful..."

Isabela found a chuckle escape her even as Merrill giggled, Aveline joining in with a laugh...and then even Fenris and Anders cracked a smile as Garrett rolled his eyes, something tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yes, well...you do it next time then."

8

8

8

They had reached the third cave, the _final_ one.

Garrett, on guard, lead the group down a narrow corridor, eyes checking left and right as he descended further into the darkness.

So far, they had not had _too_ much trouble, but the first cave had held a small group of dragonlings and the second some giant spiders Garrett had been glad to see dead. Clearly, the tomes of blood magic attracted creatures of dangerous qualities, perhaps as a safety precaution, perhaps due to its nature. _So what will we face this time_? _Bears_? _Wolves_? _Skeletons_?

Destroying the tomes, once getting a hold of them had been easy though, they succumbed to fire like any other book. Of course, Merrill had objected to destroying tomes with all that knowledge, quite _lividly_ the second time, but Garrett felt he could handle it...even though her protests had nearly made his blood rise the second time. _Why doesn't she just accept my arguments, damn it_...?

Ahead, there was a distant whispering sound that could have been the trickle of water as much as a voice, telling Garrett the group was on the right track._ If only I could have brought Bastile and the men_. It was frustrating, but Garrett didn't _dare_ bring his soldiers, he could have left Anders and Merrill back home and brought a good contingent of sixty or so soldiers, without any mages in his group, things would have worked...if it hadn't been for the fact that he was destroying books on _blood magic_...the risk was just too great.

It was ridiculous to Garrett, but he thought he had it right.

It was known among many mercenaries that Garrett hired apostates for his expeditions to the Deep Roads, but all such paperwork was via middlemen, meaning Garrett could easily deny any knowledge of the apostates being mages. More importantly in the eyes of the mercenaries, these apostates were using their magic in the _Deep _Roads, where the rules of the surface didn't apply...some nobles might use apostate healers in secret, but using any _aggressive_ magic when back in normal society...it was criminal, nay, _sacrilege_.

It didn't make much sense to Garrett, but it was the impression he'd gotten from talking to the men. They might respect him, even _like_ him...Garrett wasn't sure, but to reveal himself as someone who deals with blood magic, even in _destroying_ it, would create talks he didn't dare to start. Not with the Chantry's fear-mongering of the danger of blood magic going on in the city...it was a horrible practice, yes, but destroying it should logically not be seen as a corrupting deed.

Yet that's where they stood.

_At least the group is capable_.

Behind him, the others were silent. Aveline, Anders, Maric, Fenris and Varric were tactical enough to know the importance of surprise. Isabela was busy quietly purring and mentally counting the small fortune Garrett had agreed as payment for the group's help. As for Merrill...she was too busy quietly stewing over the destruction of 'knowledge' to make any sounds. _She's so bloody stubbor_n...

Ahead, the narrow path was opening up into a larger chamber, the whispering sound getting louder. _Here we go_..._better be ready_. Quietly, Garrett lowered the visor to his helmet and unsheathed his longsword, the knowledge he was encased in silverite steadying his already calm nerves further as he smoothly moved out into the cavern, letting the others spread out as he took stock of the sight before him.

The cave was wide but largely featureless, the ground a mixture of gravel and smaller rocks, the walls rough with ridges. There were cracks in the ceiling, allowing for light to simmer through, wrecking Garrett's night vision, but strong enough to illuminate the room well enough anyway. In the right corner, a pile of bones akin to what an animal would leave in its den lay, but there was no sight of any bear or wolf.

Only a demon.

"_You_." Garrett found himself hissing the word at the back of the creature at the opposite chamber.

"Yes, _me_." Dhavine turned, her smile grim...and her body making Garrett cock his head to the side in a frown.

The desire demon was as he remembered her from the fade. Terrifyingly desirable, as beautiful as she was hate-able, voice oozing of sex and danger...yet this time, incorporeal. Like a ghost, she wasn't fully solid, so that if he strained his vision, he could see the stone behind her as well as the book resting on a boulder that she'd been reading. _She's not here, not fully_. Garrett levied his sword at her. "Prepare to return to the fade, _again_, demon."

Dhavine's face split into a snarl, anger flashing in her eyes. "No, you have stopped me enough times as it _is_, you _monster_! I'm hurting none, I managed to form this frail bond to this book and now I'm simply _reading_! You unreasonable _beast_!" Her eyes narrowed, a low hiss escaping her. "There will be a reckoning for you..."

Fenris chuckled at that, the elf suddenly on Garrett right, greatsword raised high. "That's funny, coming from a demon."

On Garrett's left, a grim and ready Aveline stepped forth. "Best not to humour her though."

"I'm inclined to agree." Garrett growled back, the three advancing as one at the demon.

"Wait!" Merrill cried out, making all three sigh in annoyance even as Anders at the back muttered a curse. "Surely this is just a big...look, Dhavine, I know you want to become fully corporeal in the real world, but that will _never_ happen..." _Huh, did she just take our side_? "Just...just leave, I don't...I don't want you to get hurt."

For a moment, Dhavine's features softened. "Oh Merrill...I'm sorry, but you know what my nature is like..." The softness turned into a vicious growl. "...and forgive me for what I must do to your friend!" Her right hand shot out, the air rippling with energy as blue sparks danced on her fingertips, then shot out right at the advancing trio.

Fenris leapt to the right, Aveline to the left.

Garrett simply braced his feet and raised his shield, eyes narrowing as he unleashed his surprise.

He hadn't hired on Samson as an advisor for his first expedition without seeing the benefit of keeping the man around afterwards, a ward kept in the quieter area of the Hawke estate with enough Lyrium to keep him going and enough room to live well...and with much free time in which to _teach_.

Garrett hadn't learnt more than the basics, but between his armour and shield covered with runes of protection against magic and his own mind, he was confident.

He felt the energy of the fade course around him, a chaos of power and emotions intertwined, a storm...he felt it draw to the demon, a focal of such energies...and he felt her shoot out the energy like a surge of that storm.

_There is nothing_.

Garrett was calm. Garrett was the rock. Garrett was numb. The stillness in the heart of a hurricane. The antithesis of the storm rushing at him.

The bolt of electricity didn't even strike Garrett's shield, instead it struck the air in front of him, energy sparkling over and to his sides, meeting an invisible field, like water meeting glass.

In the cave, everyone stared in silence, even _Dhavine's_ jaw dropping in surprise.

Garrett, however, silently advanced.

"No!" Dhavine's eyes widened, then narrowed, green energy filling her hands as she spread them wide.

With a rattle and a sigh, multiple skeletons rose on the right, two wolves, another a bear, three of them humans. On the left, from the ground, what looked like the remains of a pair of long dead dragonlings, rose from out of the sand. "Stop them!" Dhavine's cry was answered by a loud hiss from the skeletons of beast and human alike, all throwing themselves forward.

"Take them on!" Garrett grimly shouted, his eyes fixed on Dhavine as he kept advancing, shield raised, knowing the demon wouldn't simply give up.

On the left, a dragonling had gotten its bony jaws around Aveline's wrist before she'd gotten up from her dodging Dhavine's blast. But the guards-woman, while having her weapon pinned, had somehow managed to roll her body atop the skeleton's back and was now driving her shield into its neck, her face red with exertion as she slowly began driving a wedge between its vertebrates to sever its skull.

The second dragonling had slammed into a still shocked Merrill, knocking her over and raking her with brittle claws that broke against her armour...only for it to be kicked off by a cursing Isabela before the pirate straddled the skeleton and began to hack away at it with abandon.

Garrett, momentarily shaken by the dragonling's attack on Merrill, breathed a sigh of relief at the pirate's attack and maintained his concentration.

On the right, Fenris had split one wolf in two along its length as he met its ferocious charge with a step to the side and a swing of his blade. The second was leaping to help Dhavine, only for Maric to crash into it, making it a duel between the living Mabari and the dead wolf as they clawed and bit at one another while rolling from side to side

The human skeletons were moving past Fenris and the elf now focused on the large bear coming at him, but they never reached their goal. A swing of Anders' staff and a wave of frost struck and trapped the whole group. Then Merrill, still on her back, jabbed her staff in the direction of the four blocks of ice, a bolt of lightning shooting out and dancing between the four, shattering them each in sequence.

Garrett focused on Dhavine before all else though as the demon with a desperate growl shot out with both hands, the burst of lightning, energy and emotions intertwined again striking a wall of nothingness.

The bolt was stronger this time, penetrating the fortress of calm Garrett's mind projected...and then what energy was left dissipated with a hiss against his rune-covered shield as Dhavine cried out in frustration.

Garrett didn't reply, didn't taunt, he merely advanced.

_Calm_.

_Nothing_.

_Calm_.

He hadn't reached her, yet Dhavine still recoiled, hissing as if burnt as the presence of the nothingness Garrett projected reached her, disrupting the focus of fade energy that she was. "You fool! Think I will be so easily-"

Whatever Dhavine tried to do, it was interrupted as a crossbow bolt whizzed past Garrett's ear and struck the demon in the middle of her chest. Gasping, she recoiled, trying to find space to manoeuvre as Garrett continued forward. She looked up, feet lifting off the ground as she tried to fly...and then another bolt struck, this time into her shoulder, making her drop back onto the ground with a cry of agony that made Varric's shout nearly impossible to hear. "Finish her, Hawke!"

_Calm_.

Mechanically, his concentration on hurting the demon in the fade, Garrett hacked at the demon.

Dhavine twisted...and cried out, her right breast falling to the ground before evaporating, her entire being visibly beginning to evaporate as she turned to the book, clawed hands reaching out for it. "Damn, I _will_ have my..."

Then Garrett attacked again, sword thrusting into the demon's back until the tip pushed out through to the other side. "Your revenge, yes, you said so _last_ time." Garrett, relaxing his focus, he had not yet learnt to maintain it while doing anything but the simplest things, twisted the blade within the evaporating demon. "I was not impressed then, I'm not impressed now." He wrenched the blade back. "And stay in the fade, if you know what's good for you."

A hiss...and Dhavine was gone.

Turning, shoulders slumping as he felt sweat run down his forehead, Garrett took stock of the situation. _Whew, need to do some work with Samson, I can't b_e_ stuck having to concentrate so much to defend myself from magic, if I'm going to be useful otherwise_. It was pleasant to see all being okay though.

Varric was brushing some invisible speck of dust off his coat, looking bored. Fenris was poking at the skull of the now decapitated bear with an arched eyebrow, seemingly amused by the fight he'd just had. Anders on the other hand was looking at the tome of blood magic just next to Garrett, face screwed up in disgust, his fingers visibly _itching_ to cast the fire spell Garrett would ask him for. Aveline was cursing. Like with an ant, the dragonling's head was still biting into her wrist, despite being now utterly inanimate and lacking the rest of its body...and the guards-woman was growling every insult she knew as she struggled to pry its jaws open. _Heh_...

Merrill was being helped back on her feet by Isabela, the pirate looking worse off than the woman she'd saved, judging by the scratch marks and dust covering her body. _A good save though_. Garrett shot the pirate an appreciative nod, making the woman blink in surprise, then look away all of a sudden. _Anyone else, and one would think her embarrassed_..._probably dust or something_. Garrett turned his gaze to Merrill, relieved to find the elf dusting herself off, the marks on her armour showing scratches but no rips._ Damn woman, nearly made me lose my focus_.

Turning, Garrett sighed in relief at the sight of the book. _And with this, the last evidence that could be used to link me to a pro-magic action will be gone_. "Anders, get over here and-"

Merrill's shout was angry, sullen, and sharper than the previous two times. "No!"

_Oh for_...

Turning, Garrett sighed in irritation as he found the elf advancing on him, a pout on her lips and eyes flashing with anger as the rest of the group rolled their eyes and groaned at the prospect of yet another argument between the two.

_So bloody stubborn_!

8

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8

_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for her amazingness_


	49. Chapter 49

"Which is why you shouldn't destroy it!"

"You're being silly-"

"Stop calling me that!"

Isabela sighed, secretly amused yet hiding it by pretending to remove some grime under her fingernails with her dagger. Next to her, there was a grunt as Varric shifted where he stood, judging by the glint in his eyes, he too was secretly amused.

Exchanging a glance, the two winked at one another.

The group was still in the cave.

Which was funny, since it'd been what felt like half an hour since they'd defeated the demon with the huge knockers and lovely ship-offers, leaving the book unguarded and ripe for some cleansing magic fires from Serah Scar-face.

The mage had been standing near the book at the start, though with his route blocked by Garrett and Merrill _had_ was the operative word. The man was by now sitting on the ground, looking bored and grumbling to himself every time the elf said a word. _Such a grouch, he'll get his way with the book anyway, or I don't know Garrett_._ The fact that Merrill is still putting up a fight about it is just funny_..._though I guess his funny bone broke along with his body, poor guy_.

Another one less than pleased with the situation was Aveline. The guards-woman was standing near the exit to the cave, arms crossed over her chest and tapping her foot against the ground, her head constantly moving to glance at the exit, then back to Garrett, obviously trying to command the man to clobber the elf over the head or something like it so they could get their job done. _She's probably champing at the bit to get back to work_..._strange_ _woman_..._if__ she is one_. _Ohhh_..._I should ask Donnic to make sure, could be funny_. Isabela shot the guards-woman a smile. S_he did save my butt though, so I should thank her more properly_..._hmmm_..._maybe I could teach Donnic a few tricks that'll make her whimper_?_ Yeah, that'll work, got to use what you have, Isabela_.

The rest of the gang was gathered in a corner of the cave, having found a fallen boulder to use as a seat. Though only Isabela and Varric were sitting on it, the dwarf to the pirate's left, his hands busy oiling up Bianca with so much care one would think it to be an actual dwarven woman. _I should ask him where he got the name from one day, though I bet he'll give me a cryptic answer, the tease_... The man's gaze was mostly fixed on the fine machinery inside the crossbow, it looked more complex than one of those mechanical clocks Isabela had seen, and not on the argument going back and forth... though judging by the way he was grinning and his ears twitching, he sure was _listening_. _Listening and taking notes, no doubt, everyone in Lowtown is hearing his tales of 'Hawke'_..._I wonder if the dwarf even knows how much it's warping people's expectations of the man_? _Overheard some guy claim Garrett had the strength of ten men, and not even jokingly_.

Maric was with them. He was lying down at Varric's feet, the dog huffing, eyes half-closed as he dozed, watching his master with a seemingly bored expression on his face. _Wow, funny how expressive dogs can be_..._and_ _cute-looking_. _Not that I'll forget how scary you can get too any time soon_... As if hearing her thought, the dog cocked his head to the side and shot her a glance before snorting and going back to looking at his master. _See, that's just creepy, how smart are you_...? Again, the hound snorted, ignoring her yet still making Isabela shiver. _Yep, definitively creepy_...

Fenris was also sitting down on the ground, rather than the boulder, apparently finding the dirt worth it in exchange for softer cushioning and perhaps because that way he could lean his back against the cave-wall, looking awfully relaxed as he leant an arm on a raised knee while twisting his body enough to look at the exchange between Garrett and Merrill with a surprisingly intense look on his face. _Huh, looks like he's posing for a painting_..._should do it in the nude, it would be more_..._mmm_..._artistic_. Isabela bit her bottom lip, she hadn't forgotten the way Fenris' intense gaze could maker he shiver, nor how their periodic bouts of teasing glances could keep her pleasantly damp._ I really should stop teasing myself with the odd glance and go for the proper meal_..._though there's no rush_. "Fenris, you are going to burn a hole in Merrill's skull if you keep staring like that." She teased softly, making sure not to interrupt the argument between the elf and noble still reaching their ears.

"You have an entire _library_ of books, and you want to _burn_ this one!? Why not hide it among them!?"

"In my _home_? Out of the question, and stop raising your voice at me."

"I...sorry, but..._no_, wait, I'm _not_ sorry, you're not listening!"

_Hehehe_...

Fenris, turning his head and arched an eyebrow at Isabela. "I assume that you think this would be a bad thing?" Isabela's smile curdled at that, if there was one thing she didn't like about Fenris, it was his opinion of Merrill. His extreme views on mages in general was annoying, sure, but his hostility towards Isabela's _friend_ wasn't as tolerable. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised to see this argument...but I cannot understand her reasoning in this."

"I _think_...and this is _just_ my analysis..." Varric replied, not taking his eyes off Bianca as he tenderly worked at something deep within it. "...that she's saying that books are good."

"Wow, you're so smart." Isabela shot Varric a sardonic smirk, earning her a chuckle from him. "And come now, Fenris, you've got to admit, it takes an impressive level of perseverance to argue with Garrett about the same thing thrice in a row without being disheartened at the third time."

"Stupidity, more like it." Fenris grunted, then shrugged the words aside as he noticed Isabela's narrowing eyes. _Smart_ _boy_. "Though I wish Hawke could hurry this up, why doesn't he just tell the abomination to burn the book and be done with it? The blood-mage shouldn't be able to stop him in time."

Varric sniffed and shrugged, his tone largely neutral, yet with a hint of a lecture in it. "Perhaps he respects her too much to do that...?"

Behind Fenris, Garrett was rubbing his temples, then looked down at the pouting elf visibly straining her back to reach something close to his height. "I _do_ listen, but what you're asking is putting everyone at danger, the book could be used by Meredith to start a campaign of questioning that would leave us both, as well as practically everyone here, a head shorter."

"Then copy the text on papers and _then_ burn it!" Merrill protested. "B-but don't just...you can't just destroy even _more_ knowledge..." _Maker, she's good at looking close to tears_..._kudos to Garrett for not crumbling under that look_. "I thought you _valued_ it...?"

"I _do_, but I also value my life and that of others, this is not worth risking death over, especially since it's not information that we would use...right?"

"H-hey, I wouldn't...just because I want to preserve knowledge, as my clan has done for _generations_, doesn't mean I'd actually study it or use it! But once you burn that book, the knowledge is lost _forever_...doesn't...doesn't that hurt to think about?"

"Not particularly, no. This is _tainted_ knowledge, nothing that can be used for good." Garrett shook his head and sighed. "Besides, do you think I keep my library around to just store knowledge? No, it has to have a _purpose_, be useful for something...even if it's only to open up at an unlikely need. To keep knowledge that you shouldn't, that you _mustn't_ use...there's no point to it, in fact, it's _dangerous_."

"I _saved_ you with blood magic!"

"And was cast out for using it from your clan _and_ wants to deal with a demon that now has tried to enter this world and _kill_ _us_, not once, but _three_ times...so pardon me for not seeing blood magic as an overall good thing."

As Merrill moved to counter Garrett's words, Isabela turned her attention back to Fenris, enjoying the sight of him having rolled over to face her, his posture still a painter's dream. _Yep, definitively calls for a naked portrait_... "Enough of that, let's think about how to _spend_ our coin instead...Garrett sure have gotten generous since becoming filthy rich..."

"I resent that, there's nothing filthy about being rich." Varric grunted, eyes still on Bianca. "In fact, you are squeaky clean from all those fancy baths, and smell of roses and lilies and other flowers you humans and elves love so much...it's quite disturbing, the levels you go through to fancy yourself up, actually." He cocked his head to the side, eyes still on his work. "Not saying you can't be _disgusting_ when rich, but filthy? Nah."

Chuckling, Isabela glanced over at Aveline, finding the guards-woman gone. _Ha_! _Couldn't stand being away from work any longer_!_ Maker, she's priceless_... Then she looked back to Fenris, smirking. "I'm thinking...drinks and strip poker?"

To his credit, Fenris didn't look the least surprised by the offer. _Such a controlled man_..._delicious_. "As long as the dwarf doesn't play..."

Varric snorted, throwing the pair an amused glance before turning his attention back to Bianca. "Like I would. Without a dwarven girl, it's kind of pointless for me...no offence, Isabela."

"...and I don't see how this is spending much money. Wine isn't expensive and strip poker is the definition of a cheap game."

"So..." Isabela leant forward, resting her elbows on her thighs as she dipped herself as low as her flexibility allowed, eyebrow cocked at Fenris. "...you're saying you don't want to play?" Next to her, Varric slowed down his working, his eyes on the sudden development, Isabela practically _feeling_ his smirk.

Fenris was the one she was looking at though, following his every move with interest. Surprisingly, he retained eye-contact, both eyebrows raised as he retained a calm look on his face. His reply didn't come right away, and when it did, it was with the same brooding tone he usually used. "I'm saying that _money_ should be on the line if we intend to actually use it...a certain amount for each piece of clothing lost?"

"Oh? Now that is interesting..." Isabela smirked and leant a little closer, practically purring. "...but when one of us loses, will they get a chance to win the money back...?"

_This_ time, Fenris looked down, not quickly either, a long stare with a hint of a smirk in the corner of his lip. "Oh I'm sure we can find some way for you to recover your losses..." When he finally looked back to Isabela's face, the smirk was _definitely_ there.

"Oh? You think _I'll_ be the one losing?" Isabela chuckled as she straightened once more, feeling as smug as a cat with milk. "Oh this'll be fun..."

Fenris simply chuckled back, eyes still on hers, making Isabela lick her lips. _Garrett better hurry up now_...

"Right, that was...interesting." Varric replied, making Maric whine in reply, the dog's gaze otherwise glued to his master. Varric too was looking at the man and the elf he was arguing with, making Isabela suddenly realise that the volume of their argument had slowly increased without her and Fenris really noticing. "Oh dear...this might turn nasty one way or another...Maric, shield your eyes." The dog shot Varric a withering look in reply.

Snickering at the dog's reaction, Isabela turned her attention to the elf and human.

To her surprise, even Garrett looked angry by now. He was looming over the elf, his neck stiff as he looked down at her, clearly struggling not to glare, though the way his nostrils flared was revealing his evaporating temper, as were the hard brown eyes boring their gaze into the far smaller elf. His hands were slightly closed and resting on his hips, but more telling was the way he was sucking in part of his bottom lip, as if the only way to keep his temper in check was to bite into it.

Merrill's fists were so tightly clenched at her sides, one would think she would draw blood from her palms. Her neck was arched back to glare up at Garrett, the woman standing on her toes to try and match his height. Her big green eyes were narrower than Isabela had ever seen them, making the green in them practically glow in the poor light of the cave, her lips curled in an angry grimace.

_Well_..._this_ _is_ _interesting_... Cocking her head to the side, Isabela watched the confrontation with interest. _I see what Varric meant_..._nasty one way or another indeed_.

Whatever arguments they had brought forth had clearly devolved into nothing but comedy for those watching.

"I'm telling you, no!"

"You don't tell me what to do!"

"Yes I do! I'm in _charge_!"

"Well maybe I don't _want_ you to be in charge!"

"I asked you all as volunteers!"

"And then ignored my opinion!"

"I didn't! But your opinion isn't law!"

"Oh!? But yours _is_!?"

"_Yes_! I'm the one paying _you_ to _be_ in charge!"

"Take your gold back! I'll take the book!"

"That's not how it works!"

"Well then I'll never take a job from you _ever_ again!"

"_Fine_!"

"_Fine_!"

Done with their little tantrum, Garrett and Merrill stood glaring at one another. One a giant, towering over the other, the other defiantly bent back to glare up at the man, like a taut bow facing a tower. Isabela wasn't sure what would happen if they collided, something which would be all to easy, their bodies nearly touching as they glared at one another. _So either they'll start fighting or_...? She shot Varric a smirk, one the dwarf echoed.

At their feet, Fenris snorted. "Maker, will they be done soon? I want to leave this wretched place."

"We should speed this up, yes." Varric agreed, then turned to Isabela with a smirk. "Should I do it, or you?"

Isabela didn't even try to conceal her grin. "Allow me..." She turned, raising her voice as she hooted to the two figures glaring at one another. "By Andraste! Just kiss her already!"

At first, neither figure moved. Then Merrill's eyes grew large as the area behind her ears and around her neck turned red. Garrett blinked, blinked again, then pulled back with a sudden jerk and turned towards Isabela, still blinking as he cleared his throat before speaking. "That's...we're having a debate here, Isabela, stop trying to make it sordid."

"Uh-huh?" Isabela and Varric exchanged a glance, both rolling their eyes. _Maker, it's like a couple of teenagers developing their first love_..._considering their backgrounds, maybe that's not too far from the truth_?

"Exactly." Again, Garrett cleared his throat while Merrill, now busy staring at her feet, had turned pale, her hands behind her back as she furiously bit into her lower lip, looking aghast for some reason. "I...we..._Merrill_ simply had issues with my commands, issues she's..._we're_ discussing..."

"Right."

"Nothing more."

"Okay."

Snickering under a raised fist, Varric exchanged a look with Isabela. "Totally."

Before them, Garrett grimaced, looking flustered and unsure. "Well...good...okay then."

Whimpering, Maric finally took Varric's advice and put a paw over his nose, concealing his eyes with a pained whine.

8

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"Formation! _Hold_ formation!"

Garrett, hunched behind his shield, snapped off a string of curses that made the man to his right flinch back in surprise, big eyes looking to the noble standing in the ranks of the Guardsmen, unsure, as many were, what _he_ was doing among the rank and file.

Garrett himself wasn't even sure.

Maybe it had been instinct, Garrett led from the front, and even though he wasn't technically in charge, he _was_ a leader. Maybe it was him feeling compelled to help Aveline after her assistance with the now thoroughly destroyed books on blood magic, Merrill's opinion be damned. Maybe it was his frustration with the Qunari situation and a need to physically _do_ something to make it better. Maybe it was Bastile's training making his first reaction when facing an angry mob be to face them with drawn sword rather than linger back. Maybe it was a feeling of duty, given his job as Qunari-liason. Maybe it was the anger coursing through him as he saw a black shape flee back into one of the many dark alleys of Lowtown.

_Petrice_...

The Chantry priestess was not one Garrett had forgotten, and by the smirk she'd shot him just before running off, neither had she forgotten about him. Her goal was still the same, driven by a fanatical view on the Chantry's teachings, or perhaps simple blood-lust – though not enough to participate in the blood-letting herself – she had become the focal of the anti-Qunari cults springing up across Kirkwall. _Maybe she's just drunk on the power the mob is giving her_? _Ever since the Grand Cleric fell ill, she's been very busy rallying supporters_...

Garrett grit his teeth in frustration. He'd worked so _hard_...two _months_ he'd spent talking with the Arishok to get a delegation of Qunari to come to the Viscount's keep. It had been largely symbolic, which was why the Arishok had been so reluctant, but Garrett had correctly found that the Qunari leaving their compound to come and talk to Dumar about something as trivial as sanitation outside their gate had proven a major boon in swaying people's opinions about the Qunari. After all, _they_ had come to the _Viscount_ as diplomats did, they'd been perfectly polite in their own statuesque way...all who'd seen them had breathed a little easier, seeing that one could _reason_ with the beasts living within their city.

Of course, Garrett had not taken the extremists into account, a fatal oversight that he was now silently berating himself over even as he gripped his sword all the harder.

His two months of hard work, the trust of the Arishok _and_ the chance for a _good_ relationship with the Qunari now lay bleeding in the Lowtown market. The delegation, on their way back to the compound, ambushed and lynched by a mob springing out from the crowd, concealed weapons drawn and driven into naked flesh before the massive Kossith could even draw their weapons.

Then, to add insult to injury, among the chaos they'd caused as those uninvolved fled the scene, the mob had begun to dismember the corpses of the delegation, _revelling_ in their deed and chanting praises to the Maker.

The Qunari couldn't have been dealt a bigger insult in the extremists eyes, even though the Qunari would only see the killings, rather than the mutilation, as the insult.

Fortunately, Garrett and Aveline had been nearby with a detachment of guards. Garrett had foolishly thought it best to make a show of the Qunari being able to walk in the city unguarded, as part of the citizen body, and had only kept back with Aveline so as to be ready for a crisis. They hadn't expected the crisis to happen so _fast_ though, it had been over in less than ten seconds!

So now they stood there, Garrett front and centre of a thin line of forty-five guards, standing three ranks deep at the base of a stair as Aveline stood at the back to look over their heads, green eyes blazing with fury. "Hold formation, damn you!"

It was hard though. Rather than fleeing like the rats they were, the ambushers were still standing strong before the guardsmen, their numbers likely near two hundred, if Garrett were to guess, enough to steady their nerves before the wall of steel before them. At the moment they were picking up severed Kossith heads, fruit from the nearby stands of the market, bottles, chairs and whatever else they could get their hands on...and hurling it all at the guards with a fury as their chanting became louder and louder.

"**The Maker wills it**! **The Maker wills it**!**The**__**Maker wills it**!"

Garrett felt exposed. He wasn't in his plate armour, but only in his leathers, not having expected an all out battle to occur in the _middle of the city_...and as such he was a brown spot among all the plate-armoured guardsmen, and one recognised as a _noble_, making him a prime target for the missiles hurtling towards the shield-wall.

Grumbling another curse, Garrett ducked as a bottle shattered against his shield, the froth from the ale within staining his heraldry. One of the last Kossith heads flew over Garrett and slammed into the shield of the man behind him, making the man scream in disgust even as the heavy lump of flesh bounced against Garrett's back before dropping down on the ground. Growling, Garrett gripped his longsword yet tighter. "I'll kill whoever threw that..."

Next to him, one of the guards nervously snickered.

"**The Maker wills it**! **The Maker wills it**!**The**__**Maker wills it**!"

"Citizens of Kirkwall! Lay down your arms! Surrender or die! And I mean _now_!" Somehow Aveline managed to make herself heard about the chanting of the mob before them, even over the sound of them slamming improvised shields and weapons together to cause even more of a racket as the whole group worked themselves into a frenzy.

Aveline's anger was one that could wither trees on command, but the mob before them was too far gone, worked up in a rage that couldn't be contained, they surged forth.

"**THE MAKER WILLS IT**!"

_Bloody fanatics_.

The longsword Garrett was carrying wasn't ideal for the close ordered rank combat he was now in, but since he wasn't about to draw his dagger instead, he levelled it behind his shield and prepared to thrust it out like a spear.

In a cacophony of crashes, the mob slammed into the guardsmen.

A skeleton of a man cried out what was half a prayer, half a curse, as he gripped at Garrett's shield with his left hand and tried to sweep a small hatchet over it at the noble's exposed head. Garrett was far stronger than his foe though and raised his shield, catching the hatchet's head with the rim of his shield and pulling it upwards as he blindly thrust out under the now raised shield.

A spray of something warm struck Garrett's hand and the fanatic disappeared, lost in the chaos of battle as he fell and got trampled by his own allies. To Garrett's right, the guardsman hesitated as an unarmed woman grabbed his shield and began to pull with all her might, nearly dragging him out of the formation and into the frenzied sea of madmen ahead.

Garrett's sword, already extended, lashed out as quick as a whip, the impact just strong enough to get halfway through the woman's unarmoured right arm before he had to pull the blade back, making her shriek and stumble back, desperately trying to staunch the wound. The man Garrett had saved barely having time to send a grateful nod as another female fanatic tried to pounce on him, only to find a blade in her face this time.

To the left, a fanatic was hammering on a guardsman's shield with all the speed and strength he could muster...and the moment he slowed from fatigue, an arming sword lunged out from behind the shield and gutted the man.

It was impossible to tell what was going on further than that though. But given how their right flank was protected by a house and their left a solid wagon, Garrett knew the mob could only come at the guardsmen from the front...and what little he saw, it was turning to a one-sided massacre.

Ahead, a fanatic, watching Garrett, pulled his sword back in a low guard behind his shield, and surged forth with mouth frothing and a hand desperately clutching a dagger as he launched himself at Garrett's waist. Garrett's shield shot out low, slamming into the man's face and stopping his tackle dead in its tracks even as Garrett's sword suddenly darted high, coming down over Garrett's head like a scorpion's sting.

The fanatic's knife grazed a buckle on Garrett's leather armour, then he froze, three feet of steel slicing into his flesh just above his collar bone and finding a lung and a heart...a moment later he was on the ground, the blade sliding out of his flesh with a loud sucking sound.

The next in line was carrying a small buckler in his left hand, the right holding a thin thrusting sword of surprising length, he even wore a worn set of leather armour. _Where's the plate armour when you need it_? The man eyed Garrett more calmly than one would expect of a fanatic, the grin coloured by blood-lust, but not frenzy, it was a man wanting to fight, the cause for it not important._ Bet Petrice has no problem getting you guys on board with her program_. Watching the man eyeing him for an opening like a hungry dog, Garrett moved his shield slightly to the left...

Instantly, the fool lunged, his right foot shooting out far ahead as his sword thrust out with its impressive range at Garrett's right hip.

Garrett's shield moved fast, as did his feet as he twisted his stance to the left as much as the cramped formation allowed while moving his shield to the right, his enemy's blade missing by virtue of both the shield pushing it further to the right side and Garrett stepping to the left. Garrett's own sword thrust in under his left arm, through the space where his shield had been a moment before. It caught the lunging man in his right side, punching through leather and flesh with equal ease as the man was unable to pull back in time.

The man gasped, looked up at Garrett in shock, then fell forward, hands clutching as the wound as great quantities of blood begun to pump out of it. _Kidney, you're dead_.

None took the man's place.

Looking up, Garrett found the mob having pulled back, glaring and shouting at the guardsmen...though mostly gasping for air.

Being taller than most natives Garrett had a better view than most of the guardsmen's ranks, though it was still limited as he stood amongst them. At the back, by the stairs, three guardsmen were clutching injuries, tended to by a fourth. As for the dead, Garrett could only see one, blond tresses sticking out from a buckled helmet still containing the severed head, the body wedged between three dead fanatics at the front.

Mostly, the front rank was intact though, the majority of the dead being from the mob, severed limbs and bleeding bodies piled over one another. _A good quarter of their numbers_..._wow_. The guardsmen were gasping for air as much as the mob, though more quiet, they seemed the more confident ones now, the mob's early frenzy having been thoroughly beaten out of them...in fact, Garrett could already see a few at the back making a discreet run for it. Many of them were pale now, staring at the dead between the groups with fear, whatever fervour they had worked up waning as they watched the man Garrett had wounded struggling to crawl back to their line...only to falter and fall dead.

_They're ready to rout_.

Looking about, Garrett caught sight of Aveline. She was standing on the wagon on the left, two dead fanatics at her feet, an axe she didn't even seem to notice stuck in her bloodstained shield as she grimly looked down at the crowd. Surprisingly, she seemed intent on staying that way, content to let the mob make up their mind of what to do, and then act accordingly. _Well __I'm__ not, time to show what happens when you stand up to order in __my__ city_..._we make a statement today, and we'll see how many are willing to follow Petrice again_...

"Charge!" Garrett cried out the order, raising his sword high to catch the attention of the panting guardsmen...and then rushed forth.

The guardsmen and mob alike hesitated, the former slow to follow, the later standing frozen in terror.

All save two fanatics, a big man holding a stool like it was a shield and raising a mace high as he moved to attack Garrett head on, the other a woman carrying a spear that moved to meet his charge more cautiously.

Like a thunderbolt of fur shooting out from behind the formation of guardsmen, Maric rushed through the now open ranks of the guards, past Garrett...and bowled the man over, sending stool and mace alike flying as the dog with a snarl buried his teeth into the screaming man's throat.

The woman, momentarily frozen at the horrifying sight, only acted at the last instant when Garrett came charging, the thrust of her barbed spear surprisingly swift. It slid over Garrett's raised shield though, then, when she tried to pull the weapon back and back away herself, the barb got caught in the rim of Garrett's shield, making her scream in horror as Garrett swiftly crossed the distance.

With a crunch, Garrett's sword thrust into the woman's open mouth before coming out of the back of her skull in a shower of gore. Pulling the blade out as the woman fell on her knees, Garrett brought the blade up and down over his head in a furious backhand swing, separating the already dead woman's head from her shoulders and sending it tumbling at the still frozen mob at her back.

With a scream, the mob dissolved.

But the guardsmen, though tired, had by now caught up, and the mob was slowed by fatigue, terror and their own grisly work on the Qunari...

Swords hacked, slashed and stabbed, sending men and women alike to meet the Maker they had cried out for just moments ago, though in various states of dismemberment as the swords of the guardsmen cut through unarmoured flesh and bone with ease.

Only those furthest at the back of the mob managed to get away, barely half of them, the rest joining their already slain comrades on the ground, their blood soaking into Lowtown's dirt.

Panting, Garrett watched the guards slowly come to a stop, knowing they couldn't pursue the now sprinting fanatics while in their heavy armour, though considering the way they were clapping each other's shoulders and cheering, they were more than satisfied with what they've accomplished. _Good, they could use the morale boost after all these protests_..._and the fanatics needed a bloodied nose for sure, if nothing else for their own good_. Still taking deep breaths, the exertion of combat lingering, Garrett let his blade dig into the dirt so he could rest his left hand on it, his right moving down to scratch Maric as the dog sat down next to him with a blood-covered muzzle. "Good work, as always." The dog gave a low woof in acknowledgement, licking his chops.

"Squad one and two, secure the scene! Squad three, look for survivors! Squad four, tend to the wounded!" Aveline's sharp orders were obeyed after a mere moment of the guards having gathered their wits enough to return to the world outside of the blood and gore of combat. "And nice work!" That brought a loud, though tired, cheer from the groups of guardsmen moving to their Captain's orders. Garrett though, found himself turning to face a woman not looking as pleased as her words would have suggested. "We were supposed to catch the criminals, make them lay down their weapons so they could finger the leader." Her voice was low, calm and not the least bit hostile, yet there was an undercurrent in her eyes that made Garrett wary.

He forced himself not to shrug, sensing a clear dismissal wouldn't go over well. "We already know who the instigator is, and that they won't testify that it's her, it didn't work for the last thirty we brought in for questioning, and it won't for these." He sighed, shaking his head. "Besides, Kirkwall law can't touch members of the Chantry, you know that."

"So that means we start killing criminals however we wish? We're the side that's supposed to act rational, who acts within the laws, not throwing them aside whenever it fits us." Aveline stepped closer, voice yet lower, a hiss. "We're working _within_ the law now, right?"

_You are, I work to achieve its goal_. "Of course, but if these fanatics had fled, they would have attacked us again later, you know that, and with more rallied to their cause. This way we might have gotten some breathing room..."

"That is _not_ your call to make." Aveline snapped, then leant even closer, eyes narrowing as she hissed at him. "Especially not with _my_ guards!" She barred her teeth, now clearly angry. "You've personally increased the budget of the guard by a third by your donations, I _know_ that, I'm _grateful_ for that...but that does _not_ make the guard _yours_. You do _not_ command it." A shake of her head. "_Got_ it?"

_I suppose I was a bit overzealous, she's right, I'm not the Viscount after all_..._and I need her on my side_. Garrett held her gaze as he nodded, as serious as he could be. "Understood, it won't happen again."

"Good." Aveline leant back, visibly relieved. Huh? She thought I'd try to force my command on her? _I wouldn't_..._well_..._no, no I wouldn't_. Garrett shook aside the doubt as the woman gave him a pat on the shoulder and moved towards the group picking through the mutilated bodies of the fanatics for some unlikely survivor. "Also, heads up, Dumar inbound."

Turning towards the stairs from which Aveline so recently had commanded the skirmish from, Garrett arched an eyebrow at the pale-faced Dumar moving down the stairs, his grimace of horror plain for all to see as he skirted around the wounded guardsmen being tended to there...and then stopping at the last step, unwilling to step down on the bloodied and muddied ground just beneath. _Not exactly an inspiring sight_. To their credit, the twenty guards at his back weren't showing a hint of disdain at their charge, though the guardsmen themselves seemed content to roll their eyes whenever the Viscount wasn't looking.

_Better save him, before he loses more respect_. "Viscount, an honour to see you here." Garrett approached, coming to a stop just at the bottom of the stairs and briefly kneeling in the mud before rising, catching the Viscount's gaze and holding it. "I'm surprised you've come, I was ready to come back to the keep and give you a full report."

"Y-yes...well I felt c-compelled to see for myself..." Dumar swallowed, his gaze slipping from Garrett's to look down at the massacre before him. "...Ma-Maker...so much...so much..." He swallowed, pale as a ghost under his black suit. "A-and the Qunari?" He turned to Garrett, lower lip trembling as he struggled to control himself. "All dead?"

"Yes, Serah." Garrett nodded, grim at the thought of all the work that was ahead of him. He was sure he could deal with the Arishok, but for Petrice and her growing mob, for the tension that grew...he had no sure answer. _I need to curtail her freedom, somehow_.

"M-maybe we..." Dumar licked his lips, looking down to find a Kossith's head near Garrett's feet...and visibly struggled not to retch before looking back to Garrett. "...sh-shouldn't-"

"Serah." Garrett interrupted before the man could continue and make a fool of himself. "The Arishok should be informed immediately, he'll no doubt learn of this swiftly, as will the entire city. If we can inform him ahead of rumours, we will at least have been honest with him, the alternative is...frightening."

"I...yes..." Dumar looked down at the carnage, then up at the many houses surrounding them. The windows there were all darkened and shuttered, yet no doubt hundreds of people were staring out there, frightened and curious both. "...you're right." A deep breath, and Dumar looked back to Garrett. "Do so, my liaison, we must act decisively if we're to repair this damage."

"As you command, my lord." Garrett bowed, not about to point out he was the one calling the shots. "Now, perhaps it's best you return to the keep..." _Before you appear yet weaker to people by throwing up on these very steps_. "...for your own safety, the city is too unruly at the moment."

"I...yes, you're right..." Dumar cast a final glance at the carnage around Garrett, then abruptly turned to march up the stairs again, refusing to look back.

_Oh, right_. Garrett, grimacing in irritation with himself, moved to catch up, holding his head low as he inched close to the Viscount, ignoring the way the man flinched at the smell of death clinging to Garrett washed over him. "My lord, the leader of the group seemed once more to be that Chantry priestess by the name of Petrice. Surely the Grand Cleric should be informed so she can take the appropriate steps?" _Steps we'll __suggest_...?

Dumar shook his head though, making Garrett grit his teeth in frustration. "You know I can't do that, no personnel of the Chantry may be touched by us. And the Grand Cleric is dying, last thing I want to do to the poor woman is to bother her now..." _If you don't, __Petrice__ might become the next one_! "Besides, Meredith takes offence when it looks like we meddle in the affairs of the church..."_ Like she meddles in those of state_? "...and I have enough trouble from her as it is, without the clerical wing of the Chantry breathing down my neck as well. No, we contain the situation, nothing more, and that is final."

_Of all the things to be decisive in_...

Garrett knew why Dumar held such a position. The man was old and tired, _too_ tired...the weight of Kirkwall's wounded management weighing him down, and each issue just adding on the burden until he now simply tried to avoid any conflict. The status quo was his byword, and it was doomed to fail as his own philosophy made him unable to act against those acting against him, be it directly or indirectly. _Inaction_ ruled the man who was supposed to _rule_ Kirkwall, and though it was his own choice due to how much action appeared ready to punish him, the end result was that his own choice was hurting him more and more. He was slowly bleeding dry rather than him risking a grave wound for a chance at survival.

Garrett said none of this. Dumar likely knew it subconsciously, and if not, he would not listen to such words.

And in the end, did Garrett _want_ to save the man? He wasn't so sure, the Viscount was useful so far, but how much more useful would the crown be on Garrett's own head?

So Garrett merely stopped to bow, watching the old man leave with narrowed eyes.

"As you say, my lord."

8

8

8

_Thanks to Abydos Jackson, for EVERYTHING._


	50. Chapter 50

Sitting back, Garrett marvelled at what was before him.

_Last time we did this, it was in Gamlen's sty, without enough chairs to go around and each bringing their own dish so we could all eat from our wooden plates_. _I'm surprised mother didn't think of inviting everyone for dinner like this again, actually, even more so that it was __my__ suggestion_.

This time, Garrett had invited his friends to dinner in style. He was sitting at the head of a table covered in food., nothing too fancy, he wasn't trying to impress a noble after all, but tasty and plentiful, just as all of them liked it.

Wine was flowing freely, a few discreet – though somewhat wide-eyed at the loud spectacle – servants staying in the shadows, ready to assist if need be.

Garrett could hardly blame them.

He was sitting at the head of the table, and knew he looked every part a noble, if only one from Ferelden. His mother sharing the corner on his right was finely dressed and looked as perfect as one could make a Kirkwall noblewoman. Even Maric, lying on a large cushion in a corner while biting into a big hunk of meat looked _noble_, yet the _rest_ of the people at the table...

Next to Leandra, Gamlen was sitting, his new vest and shirt stained from the wine he'd already overindulged in. The man's eyes sad as he stared down at his meal, ignoring the odd reproachful look Leandra shot him. _I don't know what to do with him, ever since returning here, he's become more and more of a drunk, it's like this place is eating him up_..._maybe it's hard to let the past go_?_ I might have to send him to the countryside, a nice little place to sober up and breathe fresh air might be just the thing_.

It was not hard to see the reason for his sour mood at this time though. While he had sneakily gotten himself seated next to Isabela once more, the pirate was ignoring him completely this time, her attention fixed on the elf seated next to her. Garrett wasn't sure how the pirate had convinced the sourly Fenris to come, but considering how close she was leaning to him while speaking with a smirk and coyly playing with her food before the hungry-looking elf, the noble could give it a guess. _At least it was nice of them to show, whatever issues I might have with them, they're part of the group_..._though seeing Fenris smile for more than a second feels odd_.

At the other head of the table, Varric was sitting, the dwarf taking delight in horrifying the servants. Booted feet on the corner of the table, a plate in his lap and eating from it with his fingers, Varric was the essence of a laid back rogue as he loudly discussed the finer points of Fereldian cheeses and cats with Anders who shared the dwarf's right corner. At times, the dwarf had even picked up a little violin resting against his chair and played a tune, adding a loud but pleasant atmosphere to the feast. _The life of the party, should try convincing him to join us the next time we go to the Reinharts, they'd be hesitant at first, but I'm sure he would charm the whole nobility in no time_...

The left side of the table was louder than the right. Anders seemed in a good mood. Ever since Garrett had allowed for the burning of the tomes of blood magic, the mage had been somewhat amicable, and given the latest news of another breakout from the Circle, Garrett could guess the reason for the usually sombre mage's cheerfulness when speaking to the dwarf. _I really need to speak to him about that, escapes I can support, but what system does he have in place for making these mages survive in freedom_? _I can't surely be hiring all for the Deep Roads expeditions_?_ Free mages in a world they don't understand could be a problem, and another cause for Meredith to cause trouble, we need to mitigate this_.

Next to Anders, Aveline sat, Donnic to her right. Aveline had earlier been goaded by Isabela to try some whiskey, and by now her face had a red flush to it as she laughed at whatever Donnic said, the man grinning since he too had had his fill of alcohol. They were, for once, out of uniform, and looked as happy as any couple, if still a little shy around one another...to his surprise, Garrett found himself smiling at the sight. _Aveline deserves some happiness, even if it's with a drearily dull man_...

The smile easily transferred to the one sharing his left corner.

Garrett had feared, after their argument in the cave, that his friendship with Merrill had reached its end, or at least been damaged. But to his surprise and pleasure, this had _not_ happened, their friendship had continued, maybe even _stronger_ than before...although Isabela's words back in the cave sometimes snuck up on Garrett when around the elf, irritating him. _After Athenril, I swore never to get into the clutches of another elf. Merrill might have made me see elves in a new light but_..._no, it's a ridiculous notion_. In the end, Garrett was just happy to earn a smile in return as the elf pulled back a rogue tress of hair as she echoed what he'd thought just a few moments ago. "This is nice, isn't it? I can't believe we've gotten so far...remember the last dinner? I had to fight a rat for my apple!"

"I was just thinking about that." Garrett admitted, taking another sip of his glass. "It's hard to come to terms with how much things have changed." _And what we've lost on the way_... Garrett glanced down the length of the table, noting the lack of Bethany and Carver with a wince, the wine making him melancholy at the sight.

Merrill pulled him right out of the mood though, her elbow dropping onto the table as she leant closer, chin resting in her palm. "Could you imagine how it would have been, had you stayed in Ferelden? Would you have become a noble? Or stayed a farmer?" A titter. "Behold, noble Hawke, toiling the fields!" The elf grinned.

Mimicking Merrill's posture and finding her grin infectious, Garrett nodded. "That sounds about right, yes. Part of the reason I've gotten to where I am today is how we've all worked together, don't you think?"

Merrill's eyes widened. "I would have been so lost, had we never met! Ancestors, it's bad enough now, but without a little help and companionship at just the right moment...I would have gone mad!" A laugh. "Could you imagine me trying to figure out how things in the city worked without anyone willing to give me a hint or advice?"

Garrett chuckled at the imagery Merrill conjured up. "Oh that would have been...bad, but you're cleverer than you give yourself credit for, you'd have managed."

Merrill's cheeks flushed a little. "I don't know...maybe-"

"Well, it worked out for the best in the end." Leandra suddenly chimed in, her tone surprisingly neutral. Looking to his mother, Garrett found Leandra's look almost...haughty? _Eugh, I know Gamlen's behaviour is putting you in a bad mood, but at least __try_. _You haven't been very eager for this party since I suggested it, even_... Garrett glanced to his friends, then Leandra again, and sighed. _Don't tell me you think us too fine for them now_... Mother's eyes betrayed no feelings on the matter though, her smile polite. "I hope you don't feel intimidated by how we've prospered? I understand if it can be a little...jarring...to come here, I mean."

"Oh it was, at first." Thankfully, Merrill didn't seem to notice any second meanings behind Leandra's words and smiled back. "But your son has been so nice, the library now feels like a second home!" The elf grinned as Leandra shot Garrett an arched eyebrow, making him scowl back. _Stop it_.

Over by the far end, Varric had once more picked up the violin, playing a strange tune Garrett had never heard...and after some bullying from Isabela, Fenris started to sing along on Tevinter, making Anders chuckle under his wine-cup. Aveline and Donnic were staring, though with approval, since Fenris surprisingly had quite a good singing voice. Gamlen glared at Fenris, then went pale and dropped his gaze the moment the elf shot him a glance and murmured something into his glass.

"Yes, my son is quite nice." Leandra chuckled, shooting Garrett a smile before turning her gaze back to Merrill. "He told me your clan is still in the area, by the way, it's quite an honour to know you value my son more than them." _Mother_!

"Well...it's not...it's not really a thing you can compare, you know?" Merrill shook her head, looking conflicted and pained at the memories Leandra's words had dug up. But then she smiled once more, banishing the darkness with sparkling eyes and a honey-sweet smile. "But don't worry, I won't leave your son, Lady Hawke."

_Wait, did Merrill just_... Garrett glanced at the elf, unsure since all he saw was kind sincerity, yet... _Not as oblivious as many think, no, she's smarter than that_.

"Aw, that's nice." Leandra smiled at the elf, a mixture of appreciative and patronizing. _Maker, I don't need more conflicts among those I care about as well as those at work_... Not noticing Garrett's despair, Leandra turned a more genuine smile to him. "Speaking of nice things, the Reinhart's have sent a new invitation for their next party!"

Garrett blinked. "It's only been a few months since the last one..."

"_Five_, and we're approaching summer, so yes, we got our invitation again." Leandra patiently replied. _Wow, really_?_ It's been that long_? _Time flies when you work_... "Won't it be grand? We had such a good time the last time we were there, didn't we?" She grinned widely at him, her thoughts no doubt on Cecei.

_I did make a lot of connections there, yes, and my cooperation with Charles Reinhart has really born fruit, perhaps if I socialise further with him, I can deepen the relationship_..._oh, and yes, Cecei of course_. "It sounds good, mother, I could use a more relaxed surrounding than the Qunari compound or the Viscount's keep for an evening."

"Ohhh...!" Merrill sat up straight, smiling. "Can I come?" Then she blinked in surprise, slouching back down and tapping her index-fingers together with a shy look on her face. "Err...if it's not a problem? I've never seen the nobility have fun before, and you described the Reinhart ballroom as so amazing...?"

"I don't know-" Leandra started.

And Garrett spoke before he'd even registered he had opened his mouth. "Of course you can, it would be nice to have you over."

Leandra shot him a look even as Garrett blinked, surprised with himself. Before him, Merrill was grinning. "Oh, _can_ I!? That's so nice of you, thank you!" She shot forth, giving him a quick hug that smelled of birch, then pulled back, flushed but still smiling as Garrett stared back in surprise. "Oh I bet it'll be so fancy! I won't know where to look first!"

"Garrett...?" Leandra spoke up, a warning in her voice. "Have you considered how this might _look_...?"

Garrett grimaced at that. _Like I'm bringing an elven mistress, to the Reinhart's party, the Reinharts everyone know sare trying to marry their daughter to me_. "It'll be okay, mother, any misunderstandings can be explained, I'm sure, the Hawke name is quite respected by now, after all."

"I suppose, but..." Leandra looked to Merrill, then back to Garrett, her hands looking as if she really wanted to wring them in worry. "...son, I don't want things to become...awkward."

Garrett caught himself frowning in irritation._ She's my friend, she's coming_. "They won't, mother."

As Leandra looked back, an unreadable look on her face, Merrill pipped. "This isn't...a problem, is it? I don't want to be a bother..."

Garrett looked back to the elf, giving a reassuring smile as he put a hand on hers. "There is no bother, nothing that I can't fix, anyway."

Merrill opened her mouth to reply, a smile in her eyes, but before she could, Isabela called out. "Wait, Merrill's going to the Reinhart party!?" Looking up, Garrett found the pirate smirking at him, then down at the hand he'd left on Merrill's, making him grimace as he struggled not to pull it back as if feeling struck by the implication in Isabela's eyes. "That's great! Though...she's not going to the place in chainmail, is she? I mean it's bad enough she comes here, looking as if she expects us to stab her..."

Garrett glanced at Merrill, indeed noting the chainmail underneath her worn and patched tabard. _Maker, you have no change of clothing_? _I need to pay you better_... "Oh it's no-" Merrill started.

Merrill's protest was cut short by Aveline. "However much Isabela and I...never mind...she's right, Hawke, you can't bring her like that to the Reinharts."

Isabela's eyes were aglow with eagerness as she rubbed her hands together, eyes on Merrill. "Dress up? On you expense, Hawke?"

Garrett shrugged, surprising himself with not opposing the expenditure as he once would have. "I...suppose, yes, I can pay for it and arrange something unless mother has the time to...?" Garrett shot Leandra a glance, noting her frown. "...no, I'll arrange things."

"Great!" Isabela chuckled. "Trust me, Merrill, you'll _love_ this..." Garrett rolled his eyes as he cupped his glass and brought the wine up to his lips.

"Oh no...I know your thinking, harlot..."Aveline replied, though the insult was spoken with far less heat than she normally reserved for the pirate. "...I'm coming with, or you'll end up dressing Merrill in little else but a _belt_."

Garrett coughed, choking on his wine.

Next to him, Leandra's frown deepened.

8

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8

"Ohhh...wedding band, fancy one too." Isabela grinned, pulling the piece of gold off the corpse's finger. _Well, seems someone out there lost an ass-hole of a slaver husband, I should charge for it_. "Mine."

"That's...nice." Merrill, crouching down next to Isabela, grimaced, the elf not yet comfortable with this final part of their job. _Too good a person for this, I'd say, though you do fry them well with lightning_... Not that her distaste for their grisly work stopped Merrill from opening the pouch stuck to the man's belt to see what was inside. Garrett was paying them exceedingly well in comparison to before, but that didn't mean the extra income from looting wasn't needed, and Merrill had to pay her bills just as Isabela, maybe even _more_, given how she had to actually pay for her drinks in the Hanged Man. "Awww, amber dice, they look beautiful..." _Bet they're loaded_.

"Sure, sure..." Isabela looked about with a grimace, trying to get a an update on the situation and finding that nothing had changed.

The opening in the cliff-face they had entered with Fenris as a guide had turned out to be anything but another dank cave. While dusty from disuse, the walls had been smooth, the furniture sparse but present, the cave seemingly an underground dwelling of old. Given the many rusty cages that had lined every major room, its previous use had been obvious even _without_ Fenris' explanation.

Like once long ago, the place had been inhabited by slavers, though not for long.

Isabela, having a burning dislike for slavery in any form, found the scale-armoured bodies strewn across the final chamber quite pleasing to the eye._ If only all slavers would die as easily_. The Tevinter slavers had obviously not had much experience with people who _fought back_...a far cry from the men someone like Castillon surrounded himself with, men that even _Isabela_ feared. _And rightly so, if he gets a hold of me_...

The head of the slavers was miraculously still alive, though for how long was debatable, with her on her knees and surrounded by a glowing Fenris, a scowling Garrett, a growling Maric and a frowning Anders. _Oh for...just kill her and get it over with, I can hear your mumbling over there, just put her out of her misery so Fenris can smile again_. Isabela _liked_ intense Fenris, she really did, but something about _angry_ intense Fenris...it was frightening. _At least Hawke knows how to deal with the man then_.

It was odd, but Isabela had actually _understood_ Garrett's reasoning for acting on Fenris' request for aid. The man had explained it to Merrill, who of course had told Isabela...and it made sense. Fenris might not be a great friend of the Hawke's, but he was hunted by Tevinter blood mages, and his relationship to the Hawkes' was easily tracked back. That meant that if Meredith got wind of things, learned of their relationship to the blood-mages, however tenacious and hostile it might seem...she might investigate things further...and that was something Garrett didn't want.

It made sense, a disgustingly logical conclusion.

Yet at the same time, Garrett had also apparently explained to Merrill that there was a _principle_ in the matter as well. Fenris had fought by their side, protected them and was, however grumpy about it, part of the _group_...and one _defended_ the group._ Soon he'll call us a family too_. Isabela nearly grimaced at the disgusting thought even as she couldn't help but admit that the thought of someone being willing to watch out for her was...nice.

Looking back, Isabela also spotted the one survivor, a woman looking like she'd been hit by every branch of the ugly tree when falling off it; a servant the slavers had brought. She was a bony little elf that had been weeping as she'd shovelled the grisly remains of her former friends away from an altar when the group had found her. Now she was still weeping, but quietly, the woman pale as a ghost as she stared at the carnage across the floor, perhaps unable to understand that her oppressors were dead. _I know that feeling_. Isabela's lips turned into a grim line, the memory of her _dear_ departed husband a grimly satisfying one, though at the time, she'd been terrified...

Varric was with the woman though, a hand on her back, muttering comforting nonsense with a reassuring smile on his face, slowly soothing the frayed nerves of the elf like only he could.

Noticing Isabela's gaze, Merrill perked up. "It was nice of Garrett to offer the poor girl work, she looks like she could use it."

"Yes, because Garrett _needs_ another servant..." Isabela grimaced, the very _term_ 'servant' making her stomach roll. "Really, she's been stuck doing that thing for her entire life and now...he could have just put some gold in her pocket and let her make her own future." Isabela sighed, what she wouldn't have done for a little freedom back in the old days...it was like a drug to her now, more valuable than life itself.

"I...don't think she would have done well that way." Merrill replied, hesitant as she always was when voicing a disagreement, as if afraid she'd hurt the other person's feelings. _Probably exactly what it is, kitten, you'll never learn_...

"Well then she'd just have to rise to the occasion, wouldn't she?" Isabela looked back to Merrill, arching an eyebrow.

The elf was looking at Garrett though, shaking her head. "Not all of us are like you, Isabela, some of us need others to survive, to..._live_." A soft smile stole its way to the elf's face. "I'm glad Garrett did this for her."

_Eugh, fine_. Isabela shrugged the issue aside as she instead focused on more fun issues...smirking, she spoke. "Well...of course _you_ approve of what he does...you're _such_ a fan of his by now..."

"I wh-what?" Merrill's eye widened, her neck flushing as she glanced at Isabela, as if afraid to look directly at the pirate.

Who grinned back. "Just saying, you've been over to his library _very_ often as of late...found something you like there...?"

"I...it's not like that!" Merrill swallowed, looking ready to panic as she shook her head. "I would never-! The clan would-! I have an obligation to-! I'm not-! Just...no!"

"Okay, okay...yeesh..." Isabela raised her hands in surrender, shaking her head as she looked back to the corpse between them, hands moving down to check for anything extra. "Still don't understand how people can be so against a little fun rumbling in the sack, but if it's so important, ignore my teasing..."

"Thank you."

"Though don't come complaining to me when you feel like you're about to explode for a want of a good stiff co-"

"Isabela!" Merrill blushed even as she grinned, slapping Isabela's arm in playful horror.

Isabela was about to reply when a loud "No!" exploded from the other side of the room.

Looking up, she and Merrill were just in time to see the leader of the slavers fall to the floor, her heart still beating as it squirmed in Fenris' gore-covered hand. _Okay_..._so I hope I don't mentally picture that when he's fondling me_...

The one who had shouted was Anders, the mage's eyes glowing with an eerie light as he glared at the elf still staring at his prize with bitter eyes. "You promised her you'd let her go if she answered your questions!"

"Anders, calm down." Garrett moved to stand between the mage and elf._ Brave man_. Even going so far as to put a pair of hands on the mage's shoulders. _Braver still_... Isabela arched an eyebrow curious at what would happen. "We'd already agreed before to kill all the slavers in here."

"This is different!" Anders snapped, no pushing against the much stronger Garrett any more, yet neither backing off, eyes fixed on Fenris. "He gave his word!"

"That's what's different?" Fenris replied, tossing the heart aside with a snort as he looked back to Anders, eyes narrowed. "Or is it that she's the only slaver here that was a mage? Would you have had any problems, had she been a Templar slaver?"

"Don't turn this around!" The mage snarled back, his voice louder and darker than any human voice was capable of. "You _swore_ not to hurt her, then you killed her! You had no right!"

"Don't you know? In Tevinter, slaves and their oaths are worth nothing...and betrayals constant." Fenris shook his head and shot the corpse a glare. "I merely played by her rules, how's that _anything_ but fair?"

"You dare-!?"

"Anders, stop." Garrett growled, grip on the mage tightening. "She's dead, you can't change that, remember...?"

"I can still-!"

"_No_, Anders, no more, it's _over_." Garrett snapped, holding Anders' glowing blue eyes with his own brown, the irises within seemingly burning in the light of a lone torch. _Is he prepared to use that templar nonsense we saw in the cave_...? She shot Merrill a glance, noticing how the elf shivered at the sight. _I think he is_..._eugh, typical, got to try to make violence stop with the threat of more violence_..._men_.

Yet to her surprise, it worked. A sigh...and Anders stepped back, the glow in his eyes fading. Though the hostility remained, now aimed at Garrett and Fenris both. "I see...so that's how it is now?"

With that, the mage turned away and marched out.

And Garrett, groaning as he rolled his head back, moved to follow. "Oh for...Anders!"

Isabela snickered at the sight. "Huh, a lovers spat in the making?" Merrill shot her a scathing look before remembering herself and assuming a poorly made neutral look, making the pirate smirk. "What? Jealous?"

The only reply she got was an elvish curse as Merrill moved over to the next corpse to loot.

8

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for being a true roman._


	51. Chapter 51

_So_..._why am I here_?

It was a good question, Merrill thought, even more so as she realised she'd poked something foul with her spear, releasing a rank odour in the narrow hall the group was filtering through. "Eww, I think I stepped in something..." She whimpered, a few chuckles escaping those ahead, even Garrett sending a smile back along the line, though one of sympathy, rather than the patronising one several of the others offered her.

Merrill didn't much like Dark Town, there were so many sad people there, and those that weren't...well Merrill liked to think the best of people, but some had clearly been ruined by living in such a cruel place as the underground areas of Kirkwall. _Like blighted animals_..._though wonder if these could be cured_? _All wilting flowers need is a little sunlight and some water, after all, and I don't think anyone __wants__ to be as brutal as some people here are_.

Merrill was in no position to help though, and felt rather vulnerable as they quietly slipped through some of the older passageways within the ancient city, like the mice crawling through Merrill's walls at home, furtive and making as little noise as possible._ Would have been better if Garrett had brought all those big soldiers he has_... Merrill knew why the human hadn't though. Anders had asked for help with a frightened mage, and that meant none but the group could come...again...Garrett had muttered quite a bit about that fact, much to Merrill's amusement.

_Nice of him to help Anders though, didn't think he would have, but I guess after Fenris' killing that mage, Garrett feels he owes Anders_..._or maybe he just worries the mage would go alone if Garrett didn't come_? _Or to see for himself how mages in the circle have it, as Anders keeps saying he should_? Merrill cocked her head to the side, glancing past the line of people before her to eye the back of the heavily armoured human. _Or maybe something else_? _He's so complicated, so clever_..._could be a million reasons_..._or just him caring about his friends, I feel he does that more now_. The thought made her smile.

The one next in line, Isabela, glanced back all of a sudden, noticing Merrill's smile...and smirked, making the elf shoot back a glare. _It's not_..._stop_ _that_! A shrug and a chuckle, and Isabela turned back to look where she was walking, leaving Merrill to grumble at her back. _I don't care what she says, we're not_..._I'm of the elvhen and he's a human_! _Just because we happen to enjoy each others company doesn't mean anything els_e! _It would be against everything I've stood for, against my heritage, against the oath we make as children, I would never submit to_..._to_..._eugh, no_!

Of course, that simply brought Merrill back to thinking about why she'd agreed to come...and much to her chagrin, that didn't help things.

She had, even on Garrett's advice, chosen to avoid templars as much as physically possible, to stay safe one had to avoid them. Yet now she was going to a tunnel where they might well find templars if things had turned badly for the runaway mage coming to meet them, something Garrett had pointed out when offering her the job, saying he understood if she didn't want to come, but wanting to give her the offer.

She'd been _very_ reluctant, Anders was nice in his own way but...well Merrill didn't want to _die_ for the man's ideals, however nice they might be...in the face of a templar on a tranquil-spree, those ideals weighed lightly.

But then Garrett, asking if she was _sure_, had touched her hand...and things had gotten a little hazy at that point.

Gripping her spear tight until her knuckles turned white, lips becoming a thin line as she pressed them together, Merrill felt her heart squeeze tight with anguish. _We are the Dalish: keepers of the lost lore, walkers of the lonely path_. _We are the last elvhen_. _Never again shall we submit_. The oath was one children repeated in their sleep, intricately tied to the Dalish way of life and culture...it _was_ the Dalish. _I'm not_..._a bad person, but I can't_..._I can't_..._no, stupid thoughts, like flies, shoo them off, Merrill, shoo them off_. She swallowed. _He's a nice man, a nice __human__, that's all_..._I'm not against humans like many of my kin, I'm __not__, but I can't_..._I must not_..._we live as we do for the continued survival of the elvhen, a Keeper, even a first, must honour that_..._not that that's any problem, of course, no_...

_Right_?

Merrill looked up, finding Garrett obscured from view by a closely following Anders and his wide black cloak, which was both a relief and a disappointment, making Merrill grimace.

Besides the mage practically stepping on Garrett's heels, the human was followed by Varric, Isabela and Merrill herself, leaving three conspicuous missing people.

Garrett had, probably wisely, not even bothered to ask Fenris for help in trying to bring a mage in trouble out of the Circle. Aveline, being the city guard's captain, was also out of the question to bring according to Garrett. As for Maric...the dog was currently on bed-rest by orders of Leandra, since the poor little Mabari had been served meat that has been foul in some way during the group's last party, leaving the dog to recuperate over the next few days, if Merrill had to guess. _Cute how Garrett worries over Maric though_..._you'd think the dog was dying when listening to him_. She smiled for a moment at the human, then shook her head, irritated with herself.

Still, even reduced, Merrill found the group quite comforting, knowing not many would dare bother such a formidable force, even the more brutal gangs in Dark Town preferred easier targets than them. _But templars is another matter_..._if we meet them_..._it'll be to the death_. Swallowing, Merrill hurried closer to the others.

_Still, Garrett's smart, he'll not put us in too much danger, he's like a Keeper in that respect, he keeps us safe, only allowing as much risks as is necessary, it'll work out_. Straightening, reassured by the thought, Merrill nearly blundered into Isabela as the pirate came to a stop. "Sorry, I-"

The pirate hushed her with a finger over her lips, Isabela suddenly tense as a bowstring, the rest of the group also hunching low as they cocked their heads to the side, making Merrill do the same, straining her hearing.

The woman's cry was faint, and full of terror. "Please, I can't...I haven't done anything!"

The other voice was that of a man, and had a maliciously amused quality to it. "The little mage is lying again, I see, well there's cures for that. Tyrain, the rod."

"NO! No please! No don't! I'll tell you anything!" The scream was faint, yet clearly cried out as loud as the woman could...and even under his heavy black cloak, Anders began to glow, making the rest of the group turn and look at the man in alarm even as Merrill winced. _Can't we ever find the one in need of rescuing __not__ being at sword-point and about to be killed_? _Just her waiting for us without any danger_?_ Is that too much to ask for, Ancestors_?

"Yes, yes you will."

The sudden shriek was nothing like the faint cry before.

It echoed along the corridor, loud like the the roar of some underground monster, piercing like nails on a chalkboard and spoke of a volume of pain Merrill couldn't imagine.

Then it came to an abrupt end.

The entire group stood rooted to the spot, dazed by the call, rendered unsure by the volume of pain it held.

All but one.

"**Alrik**!" The templar whose name Anders had muttered previously was now roared by some other creature, some entity of glowing blue and white inhabiting the mage's flesh like an old coat.

Merrill could _feel_ it, a vibrant creature, more so than even Dhavine when corporeal. A mixture of Justice in the fade and Anders in the real world, two beasts twisting and clawing at one another within the prison that was Anders' flesh, ripping at each other in panic as their wills came at odds and intertwined at random.

It was as beautiful as it was horrifying.

Garrett turned, moving to put his hands on Anders' shoulders...and the scrawny mage shoved the much larger and heavier human into the wall with a loud crash as if he was nothing but a curtain to be brushed aside. "**ALRIK**!" With a speed only Maric might have matched, the mage rushed past the stunned Garrett, black cloak fluttering like a banner behind him.

Silence.

The group staring at the disappearing human with shock. Garrett looked too, then back to the group, eyes wide...before he with a curse took off after the Justice-Anders hybrid, breaking the spell and making the others rush after him on instinct.

They didn't have to run far.

Coming around one of the narrow corners of the tunnels making out half of Darktown, Merrill found the group running into a chamber that might as well have been a cave for all the lack of properly carved walls and the ground of dirt.

The group before them were Templars, ten of them, staring at the newly arrived group with shock. At their feet, two men in the robes mages wore lay, though the backs of the robes had been torn open, the skin underneath whipped to a mass of gore that had likely happened before they'd had their throats slit. There was a female mage among them as well, judging by her robes...though there was no sign of agony on her face, nor fear, or _anything_...her face a blank mask of calm as she looked at the group, the blue glowing burn of the Chantry still hissing and smoking from the branding of lyrium.

_Tranquil_... Merrill shuddered in revulsion and horror.

But mostly the templars, as well as everyone else, were staring at the possessed mage. His eyes were blazing blue light as he with an animalistic growl raised both hands, a pair of fireballs surging into life within them with nary an effort. "**ALRIK**!"

The templars were putting on their helmets, all but _one_, a bald man with a short little goatee, still holding the tranquiled mage by the sleeve with one hand as the other grasped a glowing poker, the ember of lyrium at the end smoking. The man was staring at Anders with wide eyes...that then narrowed in recognition. "The rebel! _Finally_! I will-"

Whatever else the man was about to say was ended by Anders hurling his twin fireballs straight at the templars, making them curse and shout as shields were raised and the fade suddenly turned into a sluggish mire near them, their skills nullifying the very fabric of the fireballs as the fade slowed around them.

Yet the balls didn't unravel fast enough and hurtled straight for the growling templar...who with a grunt shoved the blank-faced tranquil forward.

She didn't scream, not in terror, nor in agony, as the fire consumed her, making her flesh slough off her bones like hot wax as she hit the ground.

Merrill gasped in horror at the sight, a hand clasped over her mouth...and to her shock, found Anders not slowing down the least after his action as he took a foreboding step towards the scrambling templars. "**You will never harm another mage!**"

Two rushed at him, shields raised, the fade nearly disappearing around them as they concentrated all their power into nullifying the wrath the possessed mage was about to unleash on them.

Anders' hands shot forth, bitterly cold ice drawn from his very being spraying over the ground before the templars, creating a mirror-smooth pool of it. The attack sent both men toppling onto their backs with cries of surprise and horror, their armoured forms sliding across the pool and towards the glowing mage, the fade returning around them as they lost their focus.

The abomination dropped onto one knee as they came to a stop next to him, hands landing on their helmets...and filling them, then covering them, in ice. His gaze was fixed on the leader of the templars though, even as his glowing hands closed, shattering helmets and skulls alike, Anders' was glaring at the paling Alrik. "Face your death, Templar!"

Slowly reacting to the rest of the group, there was only one templar moving to attack Garrett, sword shooting out from behind his suddenly turning shield so fast it was a blur to Merrill's eyes.

Somehow, Garrett sidestepped the thrust though, sword bashing his foe's sideways even as his shield struck the templar across the helmet before shoving him past Garrett as the man moved to stand between the templars and Anders. The dazed and stumbling templar didn't get far though, the man staggering right into Isabela's daggers that pierced the human underneath his helmet, turning his neck into ribbons.

Then, the templars, their shock passing, gave a cry and charged in.

With Anders to her left, Varric next to her and Garrett and Isabela in front of her, Merrill had thought she'd get some time to think. Instead, she found terror grip her as two rushed straight at Garrett, swinging swords striking his shield and armour alike in a storm of horrifyingly powerful blows. _No_! Four were rushing straight past the man though, at Merrill and Varric, making her unable to help the man as she found her vision filling with the plate armoured templars while their presence made her mind swim, dazed by the sudden weakening of the fade.

Around them, magic died, the world turning into a mottled grey and brown, bereft of the life all mages lived with.

_Can't, I can't_..._I can't defend against that_!

"A spell would be nice, kitten!" Varric's cry was punctuated by a repeated thumping sound as the dwarf hit a lever on Bianca, making the crossbow spit out half a dozen bolts at the approaching templars, making them slow to a crawl as three of them hunkered behind their shields, a fourth covering behind them, greatsword held high.

_Right_. Swallowing, Merrill did the only thing she thought _might_ work on the fade-killing templars. She felt the earth under her shift as the energy of the fade reluctantly swirled around her, drawn by her manipulations, tugging at the fabric of reality like eddies to a beach. _Earth, life, rock, for thousands of years, you've moved, you've shifted_..._now_ _move again_!

With a crack, a boulder the size of Varric pulled free from the ground and hurtled straight at the templars, the energy pushing it forward died in moments as the boulder came closer to the templars, but the rock already had momentum, _devastating_ momentum.

With a crunch, the rock flew just over the shield of one of the templars, striking him in the head with enough force to tear it straight off his body, cracked helmet and all, the decapitated body falling forward like a puppet with its strings cut.

"Tyrain!" The templar next to the corpse lowered her shield with a cry of grief, turning her head to stare at the dead templar...and her concentration wavered. Next to her, the other templar too lost her concentration as Varric managed to nail her foot to the ground with a perfectly aimed bolt, her whimper of agony nearly lost in the battle-cry of the greatsword armed templar rushing at a smirking Isabela, his concentration failing as well as the pirate with a Rivaini taunt wheeled away from his wide swing.

_No prisoners, as Garrett said_. Merrill cried out in sympathy even as she summoned on the growing pool of energy returning to the world around her. "Sorry!"_ Energy, raw and powerful, nature and fade, as one, the call of the heavens_! The feel of the energy crawling down her hands made Merrill tingle before it rushed down into her spear and shot forth, a bolt of lightning aimed straight at the templar still in shock over her comrade's death.

The bolt struck the woman in the chest, the shock wave when energy struck matter enough to send the templar flying back, the heat and energy of the bolt crumpling and melting her breastplate, making the skin underneath hiss as the, thankfully already dead, woman was cooked by her own armour.

Ahead, Garrett was still fighting the two templars, his sword only darting out to deflect the odd strike as his shield again and again parried blows. Some got through his guard, slamming against his armour like clubs against a drum, making Merrill wince in horror and sympathy, just waiting for the killing blow to come down on the man.

Further to the left, Alrik had engaged Anders, though his snarl had turned into a panicked stare as he kept swinging the glowing poker after the mage who dodged and weaved with inhuman speed, as if the mage had done nothing but fighting in close combat his entire life. _Justice_...?

The templar nailed to the ground by Varric's bolt cried out, her knee exploding into bits of bone and gristle as another bolt caught her. She lowered her shield to protect her legs, only to moan as a second bolt struck her shoulder with a meaty thud, making her drop her shield. The next two bolts punching through her helmet were a mercy.

Varric was already turning to help Isabela...and Merrill looked on just in time to see the pirate get bowled over by the much larger templar as she parried his greatsword with her crossed daggers...and then pushed her feet up, lifting and sending the templar flying over her like a thrown sack of potatoes. The man landed hard into a corner, something snapping as he landed on his left arm...though he never cried out as Varric's Bianca spoke, neatly putting a high-powered bolt through the man's gut.

A grunt of pain made Merrill whirl about, spear lowered, energy charging. _Garrett_! Her panic turned into bafflement though as she found the templars battering at Garrett's shield and armour with slowing arms...and then one turn stiff as a rod as Garrett's sword thrust out, punching straight through the man's visor and sending blood spurting from it as the man's skull was pierced.

With a twist of the wrist, Garrett pulled the blade free and turned his full attention to the next man, who cried out in panic and swung for the noble's head...and Garrett didn't raise his shield to block.

_NO_!

Merrill took a step forward, her concentration failing, the energy of the fade slipping out of her grasp.

And then Garrett took a step forward, making the blade of his foe hit air as the man's wrist instead became the one uselessly striking the helmet of the noble. Garrett's shield-arm shot up over his foe's sword arm, gripping it by the shoulder and pinning it against his own. Suddenly unable to swing or even move away, the templar cried out in panic as Garrett's longsword thrust up...and then went silent as the blade found the mail-covered spot under the man's armpit and punched in deep.

Calmly, almost as if he had never been in any danger at all, Garrett shoved the corpse of the templar back, making it collapse.

Which left only Alrik, who was still swinging after the elusive Anders...and then crying out as, in a moment of his concentration waning, the mage's hand shot out, a flood of water showering the man...and then turning to ice.

Suddenly frozen, all but his hands and head encased in ice, Alrik cried out in rage. "No! You can't do this! I'm a- _NO_!" Anders, hissing something under his breath, wrenched the still smoking poker from Alrik's head and turned it around. "You filthy mage! You disgusting little dog! I piss on you! I and all my templars will one day wipe out your-!" The poker shot forth, into Alrik's mouth, then out the back of his skull with a hiss of smoking flesh and a crunch of breaking bones.

Silence descended.

Merrill stared at Alrik, watching the dead templar's head as it lolled back with the poker still sticking out of the back of his head, his body still encased in ice, like some macabre statue.

Slowly, the light emanating from Anders faded, his body shaking, the man looking dazed and...confused? Groaning, he put a hand to his head, yet his next moan of pain seemed to get caught in his throat as he looked about himself, eyes widening.

"Bloody hell..." Isabela muttered, pushing a helmet off a templar with her boot, swallowing. "They're barely kids? Initiates who...?" Something flashed in her amber eyes, and she turned a cold gaze to he dead Alrik. "I see."

"Yeah, seems like an...offshoot?" Varric suggested, grimacing as he shrugged, eyes on Anders, speaking softly. "I could...look things up, Anders? Maybe it's not as bad as you thought? With the tranquil-spree thing?"

Isabela was shaking her head, looking away, huffing. "This is so...world's fucked when kids are put into positions like this..."

As to Garrett...

_Ancestors, he looks __mad_.

Merrill found herself shirking back even before the man spoke. "Of all the foolish, undisciplined...after I've specifically _told_ you to...that we would...that we shouldn't...I..." Garrett's mouth ceased working, the man's face pale, drawn with rage, enough to make him, of all people, lost for words.

Swallowing, Merrill inched closer to Anders, just in case Garrett did something rash, though frightened she couldn't actually calm him if it came to that. _Did_ _he_..._train_ _as a templar because of me_? _Or Anders_? _He did __say__ it was because of all the rogue mages we've faced, but still, considering who we are_... Merrill _wanted_ to believe Garrett, she probably _did_, yet her ingrained distrust of humans – _templars_ – still reared its head at times, and the idea of Garrett being trained in such...anathema of a power was frightening.

Yet Garrett didn't act rashly, he stood there, fuming, waiting for Anders to reply.

And when the mage did, it was with a whisper. "I...did this?" The man swallowed, gaze fixed on the burnt corpse of the mage turned tranquil laying at Garrett's feet. "I did...that...? But she was...I...did I do that...?"

A snarl, and Garrett strode over the burnt corpse, over to Anders and gripped the mage by the hair, holding his head fixed and forcing him to look at the body, as if Anders was capable of anything else at the moment.

Silence, and Merrill noticed Garrett taking a slow breath through clenched teeth.

When he spoke, his voice was even, but there was no missing the anger underneath, like a current of magma just under fragile rock...yet this one was cold, cold as _ice_. "Yes, yes you did." A pause, Garrett's eyes narrowing. "Look closely, look _very_ closely..." Merrill found a whimper escaping her, hands clamping over her mouth, stopping her from interfering in something she didn't want, yet knew had to be said. "..._that's_ your revolution."

Anders didn't answer, only stare.

With a snort, Garrett finally released the mage and stepped back, his eyes dark as he turned and walked back from whence they'd come, so angry he didn't even look at the others. "Come on, there's nothing for us here any more."

As Merrill turned to follow with the rest, she looked back.

Anders was still staring at the burnt corpse, then to the dead Alrik, then back to the girl.

His eyes glowing, narrowed in rage, yet tears trickled down his cheeks.

And suddenly Merrill was hurrying to get away.

8

8

8

"Parry! Riposte! Parry! Riposte! Faster!"

With a yelp, the other initiate dropped his sword, making Carver grimace even as a couple of passing female initiates tittered at the sight, making the other man go crimson.

As had become his habit of late, Carver ignored the girls and scowled at the man. "I didn't hit you across the wrists so...?"

"I...they hurt." The man managed, somehow turning even more red as he shot the now leaving women a embarrassed glance.

Cocking his head to the side, Carver watched the man gently rub one wrist, then the other. "Overexertion, I guess...I'll try to talk the instructor into giving you a week off training. Stretch them every day and after the third do some exercises with smaller weights until they start aching but no more, we'll turn those wrists into iron soon enough." He managed a smile, not a big one, but it was there none the less.

There had been more and more of them as of late, slowly, carefully, as training and sweat slowly soothed Carver's anger.

Anger with Bethany's death, with mother, with Gamlen, with the lost estate, with _Garrett_...with the entire Hawke _legacy_...

As the other initiate nodded and smiled back before picking up his sword and heading for the baths, Carver remained, eyes glued at the white-plastered wall ahead as he took steadying breaths. _Maker, who watches...bloody Garrett getting all_..._no_..._Maker who_..._oh screw it, and screw him, this is good enough, I don't need to compare myself to him here_.

The thought made Carver's ever wider shoulders drop an inch.

It _was_ good though...his moments of angry reminiscing becoming more and more infrequent as time passed on, as he held on to his new purpose.

With the large training-hall now empty, it was dinner-time, Carver gripped his greatsword tighter and marched over the sand covering most of the floor until he reached one of the wooden posts erected in regular intervals along that side of the room. Spartan in decoration, the floor at the sides that was covered in stone largely a corridor for passing people to walk on as well as containing racks for practice weapons, the training-hall was one of the few areas bereft of symbols of the Maker. For as the instructor said, for a templar, training was prayer.

_Bollocks_.

Still, Carver liked the thinking of the other templars, it made his fixation with training more acceptable in their eyes. He wasn't the praying sort, or even the religious sort, that had been _Bethany's_ thing. Nor was he an administrator, a templar going about the tedium of books and learning besides what was required of him, that was _Garrett's_ forte.

Carver was a _warrior_.

And getting better every day.

Grimacing, Carver began to swing at the wooden post, checking his distance by making sure every blow just grazed the surface of it, creating tiny scars over the more crude hacks it had already received during official training hours. Moving, constantly moving, Carver let the blade sing in his hands, a blur over his head, then over his right shoulder, then left, then across his side, then the other.

Unlike his sparring-partner, his wrists _were_ iron, and his already considerable, at least compared to many initiates and even average templars, skills had been honed through rigorous practice to the point that he now _felt_ himself improving. It wasn't in bits and spurts, but a slow climb...every muscle and bone learning every movement, his body, balance and even sight shifting, turning into a finely tuned instrument of death.

Someone, another initiate who'd tried befriending the then still sulking Carver had asked him why he trained so hard, why he tried to become so good.

Carver still had no answer, only that it felt...right.

And what other answer was required?

_I'm not my brother, I don't need to think about every little thing, I __act_.

It felt good.

Ahead, the post, now covered with a fine spider-web of scars, seemed to tremble before Carver.

Good.

With a growl, Carver swung his blade low, as if forcing his foe back, spun himself, letting the blade swing upwards to gain momentum before he brought it down hard while nimbly stepping closer to his foe.

A single crack, and the post was sheared in half, the top plunging to the floor, the clean cut pleasing to the eyes.

_You could balance a coin on that_. Smirking, Carver lowered his blade and blinked out the sweat that had formed on his face without him noticing, his breath coming in spurts, the sudden lack of exertion sending a pleasant hum of relaxing muscles through him, quite a few aching and even trembling with exertion.

"Got lost in training again?"

Turning, Carver offered a hesitant smile to the man approaching, then remembered himself and bowed. "Knight-Captain?"

"Please, Cullen when we're just talking." The approaching man requested. His fine features, short beard and neatly cropped curly blond hair made him like a knight of the tales, the one riding off with the princess at the end. Yet the brown eyes held none of the steely resolve from the tales, but a gentleness and kindness shadowed by something else...tiredness? Grief?

Carver looked around himself, suddenly suspicious. _How would he know I train so much_? _And why come to me alone_...? "Are we, then?"

Cullen arched an eyebrow, his tone somewhat more wary. "Well...if you'd like...but I'd prefer if we could talk as two men, rather than superior and initiate?" For a moment, the man held Carver's gaze, waiting, then he smiled as Carver offered a slight nod. "_Excellent_. I've been meaning to speak to you, you see and...well you didn't show up at dinner." Carver's stomach growled at that, making the man smile. "Don't worry, I instructed the servants to put some away for you when you arrive, but first, let's talk."

"Okay..." Carver felt wary as he moved over to one of the walls, putting his sword back onto its place on the racks there. _It's no secret Cullen is Meredith's right hand_..._what could he possibly want with an initiate_? When he turned, he found himself blurting out the question he loathed himself for thinking. "Is this about my brother?"

Cullen frowned in confusion. "The new noble everyone's talking about? No, should it?"

"I...no, I suppose not." Carver shook his head, then internally groaned as Cullen moved to lean against the wall, looking ready to speak upon the matter Carver now wished he'd left alone.

Which the man did. "I've met him a few times, you know. A bit...austere, perhaps, but seems to be a good man, head screwed on right and all that...you can tell there's a reason he's the talk of the town." Carver barely concealed his grimace. "And he's your brother...you must be proud of him."

It wasn't a question, yet Carver felt obliged to answer. "Yeah, sure."

Cullen paused for a moment at that, then cocked his head to the side. "But enough about him, this is about you." _Well_..._I'm listening_... Carver, curious, shifted closer. "You've been with us, what, nearly a year now? Not a long time really, but you made an impression already on your first day..." Cullen let the words linger, nearly making Carver ask _what_ impression before the knight-Captain continued. "Tell me, when you first got here, and don't take this as an insult or anything, but word was that you were quite...err...libidinous?" The man blushed ever so slightly as he turned his head, examining his shoulder-guard for invisible dust. "Yet nowadays...well we Templars have no real oaths of celibacy, despite Meredith's recommendation, but you seemed to have changed in this quite dramatically, why? Err...if I may ask?"

_They're not Merrill_. Was Carver's first thought. _I find little satisfaction in it any more._ Was the second. "I...don't know, I guess it just became a distraction after a while, I always found other things to do with my time all of a sudden...wasn't really a conscious decision..." Carver shifted where he stood, a little embarrassed. "Training has been more...rewarding, I've found."

"You know, I've heard many initiates say they prefer training to become templars over their social life..." Cullen chuckled, shaking his head at Carver. "...but I think you're the first I believe aren't trying to suck up to me or even lying."

"What!? I'd _never_-!"

"Relax, it was a compliment." Cullen cut in, hand raised to stop Carver's protest. Then he sighed. "Change of subject...how are your studies going? History-test didn't go so well, I recall your teacher saying?"

Carver grimaced. _I thought I did good_..._stupid Rivain stuff probably lowered my score_. "I'm not...a good student, I know. I've never been, that was..._is_...my brother's thing." Cullen arched an eyebrow. "I'll try to do better!" Carver didn't much care for the defensive pitch of his voice, making him scowl back.

Cullen, not intimidated by the scowl, continued. "And prayers? I've not yet seen you in the chapel during anything but the required times."

"I'm...not...I _believe_, serah, but...I'm not good at prayers." _This, whatever it is, is going badly_..._Maker, wish I had Garrett's way with words, the bastard_..._no offence, mother_.

Cullen laughed though, a genuine sound that echoed oddly in the serious surroundings of the Templar's training-yard. "That's quite alright, Carver! Many templars don't...Meredith herself might be a believer, but she told me herself that she doesn't care if a templar believes, only that he serves." A smirk appeared on the man's face. "I myself prefer to say that the light of the Maker shines on us all in different ways, there's nothing wrong with that."

Carver, not sure what to say, lowered his head. "As the Maker wills it."

"As the Maker wills it." Cullen echoed, the phrase turning him serious. "Anyway, to the meat of the issue...your combat-training...it's really impressive. By the day you arrived, you've surpassed all the other initiates, and by now you're actually as good if not better than the _instructors_. Everyone I've spoken to has commented on your passion for this, for how dedicated you are to become a better warrior..." Cullen let the words linger, a question in them as he arched both eyebrows at Carver.

Who shifted where he stood, unsure, feeling as if he should be embarrassed over the praise, yet just feeling pride. "It's...who I am..." He shrugged, looking away. "I've found it satisfying to train, to do what I'm actually _good_ at." _To have a purpose_. "As you yourself said, the light of the Maker shines on us in different ways...for me that light comes from the blade." Carver grimaced. "Maker, that sounded corny..."

"Yet it's true." Cullen replied, nodding with a serious look on his face. "I've actually had several of our masters come to me, expressing a desire to train you, they're all curious to see how far you might develop under their tutelage."

_Masters_...? Carver found himself staring at Cullen. Besides the knight-Captain and Commander, the knight-Masters were the highest ranking templars in Kirkwall, each one a knight with decades of experience and a plethora of skills, one did not get promoted to that rank without amazing skills. _They'd want to train __me_!?

Smiling at Carver's telling silence, Cullen continued. "Of course, Masters couldn't well train a mere initiate, which puts us in a bit of a situation, don't you agree?" _Wait, you want to make me_...? Before Carver could ask, Cullen continued. "Perhaps you've heard of that latest escape? Ser Alrik snuck off with a few mages and initiates...apparently to do some illegal rites of tranquillity´with the impressionable youths to spread his little cult..." The man shook his head, a sad look on his face. "I've always thought him extreme, but do such a thing, and to drag initiates into it as well...Meredith was furious, as I'm sure you can imagine. The rite of tranquillity is not something one does lightly, and to disobey your superior...oh furious can't quite describe her." Cullen shuddered, then shook his head. "We still haven't found the escaped mages, heck, there's the weird issue of us doing a name-call and finding the only missing mages being those lying dead next to the templars, suggesting a third party might have...but never mind about that." _Anders_. Carver was glad Cullen shook his head, or the man might have spotted Carver's grimace. _Better not tell, could expose Merrill too that way_..._and maybe even my family_..._I_ _guess_. "What it _does_ show is how poorly equipped us templars are in dealing with the mages we're supposed to guard though."

"I'm sorry, serah, I'm not following..." Carver shook his head, confused and a little overwhelmed by the hints of things to come and the mention of what everyone in the order was currently gossiping about. "We're templars, we're the antithesis to mages already...?"

"Yes, but how many of us, truly?" Cullen asked, but spoke quickly so Carver couldn't answer. "We have thirty thousand templars in Kirkwall, Carver, that's _immensely_ many in one place, drawn from all over the Free Marches. Yet how many are truly _templars_? We've done a _lot_ of recruitment, meaning that nearly twenty thousand are still initiates, half of which are so green they can't even deflect the weakest of spells yet. In a year or two, many will have learnt more, but we need men who lead the way, examples that shows the path to becoming a _true_ templar. Only then can we claim to have a proper force of templars, right now too many of them are just warriors on paper."

Carver, unable to contain himself any longer, had to speak. "You...want to make me a templar? Already?"

"Yes, I've spoken to several masters and even Meredith about it...the option should be open for you." Cullen nodded, offering a pale smile. "Now, going up in the ranks _will_ demand more studies from you, as well as more prayers, but you'll also get access to training with the masters and a little more freedom in terms of what to do in your free time. It'll also demand of you to pick up your training in the templar arts more fully..." The man grimaced, hand coming down to dig into his belt. "...which is why I ask you to consider this option _carefully_."

A moment later, Carver found himself staring at a small vial held up before his face, the content glowing a pale blue.

_Lyrium_.

"Some templars go through their entire lives as initiates because of this, and there's no shame if you chose to do so too...for remember, once you fully join us...there'll be no going back, at least not in a state that's desirable." Cullen hesitated to hand the vial over, instead choosing to simply hold it up. "I want you to _think_ on this, Carver, this is not an choice made lightly, there are rewards and prices to pay with this, and you should consider both before you make an informed decision. Now, if-"

"This offer..." Carver couldn't help but interrupt, swallowing as he looked at the lyrium, then to Cullen's face. "...it's not because of who my brother is, right?"

Cullen blinked, looking confused. "No...it's because of who _you_ are."

Carver nodded.

Then he took the vial from Cullen's hand, making the man take half a step forward. "Wait, you don't have to make a decision right now-"

Carver downed the liquid in one sweep, the bitter taste causing a tingling sensation down his throat and into his stomach as he swallowed. _My choice, my life, my career_..._the price is nothing_.

Before him, Cullen looked...displeased? Worried? Whatever it was, it disappeared a moment later as the man bowed his head, offering a gentle smile.

"Welcome to the order, brother."

8

8

8

_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for being such a fighter._


	52. Chapter 52

_Well this is_..._awkward_.

Merrill was Dalish at heart, and even after years in Kirkwall, she still found the number of people and cramped streets somewhat disturbing, with people all too easily walking into her space without even being aware they were doing it.

So when put on a little stool and having some grey-haired human woman poke and push at her with a measuring rope and needles, Merrill found herself clenching her fists and curling her toes to keep herself from taking a step away. _She's just doing her job, her near and personal job_..._stop poking my leg, by Mythal, that tickles_!

The silent matron made no move to imply she'd heard Merrill's mental call though, the woman frowning as she moved to stand in front of Merrill, tugging at the cloth at the elf's hip. The woman was short and broad for her kind, and with Merrill on a stool, it was a strange feeling for her to be looking down on a human._ Heh, I'm big_. Merrill shook her head with a grin, triggering a deepening of the human's frown. _Okay, maybe no more wine_...?

Merrill wasn't sure where Garrett had found the woman, or how he'd convinced her to work on an _elf's_ dress, but the woman had so far said barely a word, yet didn't seem overly hostile either. Much to Merrill's relief, considering the woman's many needles stuck to the neckline of her simple dress, needles she seemed to love sticking into the fine green silk she'd draped over the elf after some debating between Aveline and Isabela.

At first, Merrill had thought the silk _was_ the dress...she'd been mistaken on that, as her now sore feet could testify to as she'd been forced to stand rigidly still for at least half an hour.

She wasn't much enjoying it by now. It was nice to be pretty and all, the gods knew there were Dalish who considered what god's Vallaslin to put on their bodies solely for the sake of what looked best, but Merrill hadn't considered how much _work_ humans apparently liked to put into something as simple as a piece of cloth. _They have too much time on their hands, I think_..._maybe not Garrett but, well, everyone else_...

Merrill was, and thankful for that, not alone with the old human.

Isabela and Aveline was also in the room, a round chamber in Garrett's home where one couldn't find the walls for all the open wardrobes lining it. _Wonder if it's Leandra's_? _I hope she doesn't mind us being here_... Merrill grimaced, she couldn't help but notice a certain...ambivalence towards herself from the human woman since their last meal. She wasn't sure where it came from, or why, but Merrill didn't much care for it. _I can be of the Dalish and of my clan and be his friend at the same time, don't see why she cares_...

Her two friends were to the side by a table covered in a few choice cheeses, fruits and wine. Now and again they were glancing to Merrill as they spoke, one with a frown, the other with a grin. _At least they're talking to each other and not shouting, or insulting one another either_! _Maybe they __can__ be friends_? Merrill liked that thought. _Never had a group of girlfriends like the other Dalish did_..._this could be my group_!

"So...are we done yet?" Merrill couldn't help but voice the question, eager to join her friends at the table for some cheese and maybe a _tiny_ glass of wine more. "I'd like to-ouch!" The pinprick in her hip made Merrill pull back, nearly falling off the stool before the old woman caught her with an arm strong enough to be taken for Garrett's.

"Don't move around." Was all the woman said though, eyes on Merrill's hip, as if it was something elusive she couldn't quite figure out...and then put another needle into the cloth, pulling it up slightly along that side. "We're done when we're done."

"You heard the lady." Isabela snickered, raising a glass to Merrill with a grin. "No rushing the dress, or it won't be any good...you don't want to disappoint Garrett, now do you?"

_Well_..._no_. Merrill caught herself pouting, then instead shot the pirate a glower. "You're not being nice, you promised to stop that."

"Sorry, sorry..." Isabela didn't look sorry.

Aveline joined Merrill in glowering at the pirate, but for a different reason. "Pretty or not, I don't think having an open back for her is appropriate for a occasion like this." The captain groaned, rubbing her temples. "Maker, my mother would be thrilled to hear me speak like this for once...anyway, I'm just saying that given who Merrill is, it might send the wrong signals?"

_Wrong signals_? Before Merrill could ask, Isabela replied with a roll of her eyes. "Oh come now!" She took a sip from her glass. "Merrill would look great in that! Think of her tattoos...Merrill, how far down your back do they go?"

"Err...down to the small of my back..." _And down my legs, and a little across the collar bones_..._best not mention that_. Merrill was all too thankful for her high neckline, around someone like Isabela, or even most humans, it was easy for an elven woman to get self-conscious.

"See?!" Isabela grinned at Aveline, leaning on the table of snacks as she took another sip of her glass. "Got to show that off! People will love it!" _Love_..._my_ _back_?_ I guess it would be nice telling people of how Vallaslin are done, might make them see Dalish in the light of a culture, rather than savages_. Merrill smiled uncertainly at the thought. She'd honestly been feeling some trepidation at the idea of going to the party she'd invited herself to, but something in the reluctance in Garrett's face had made her want to come along, to make things a little _nicer_. Plus, there was always the great curiosity in her to explore and learn...how many Dalish could claim to have been at a gathering of human nobles!? "Don't be a spoilsport."

"I'm not being a spoilsport, I'm simply saying that it might not..." Aveline, noticing Isabela's cocked head and pointed look, rolled her eyes. "...fine, bare back it is...but no more!"

_Don't I get a say in this_? Merrill held her tongue though, figuring Isabela's idea to be good, if nothing else but to keep her cool, Kirkwall was ridiculously warm this spring. Isabela wasn't done though. "Now, what about jewellery?" Merrill's eyes widened, she'd seen the stuff humans sometimes wore, it was ridiculously expensive, had no practical application, seemed all too fragile...and sometimes looked utterly _gorgeous_. "I'm thinking something big and golden."

"Of course you do...you're about as subtle as a brick to the face." Aveline snorted, ready to speak on when Isabela interrupted.

"You _would_ know, given all those riots. Or did that happen before? You know, considering your face?"

"Why you-!"

"I don't think I can afford jewellery." Merrill blurted out, more to stop the ensuing argument than out of any real concern. "Maybe something of wood? I could carve something...maybe...?" She blushed as Aveline and Isabela shot her an incredulous look, even the quiet seamstress shooting her an arched eyebrow.

"I think...not." Aveline's polite smile was the 'not in a million years' kind of smile, making Merrill flush further. "So I must agree with Isabela..." The captain of the guard shot the Rivaini a sharp look. "But silver and _small_...she's not _you_, woman."

"Hmmm..." Isabela wasn't looking back though, her eyes were on Merrill, looking the elf over like a cow on the market, arms crossed over her chest and biting her bottom lip. "...maybe, how about small and gold?"

"That would work."

"So...I don't get a say in this?" Merrill asked, frowning in irritation by now. _Garrett__ would listen to my opinion, he would respect it, even_...

"Kitten, you suggested making something out of _wood_." Isabela replied with a smile that bordered on the condescending, making Merrill bristle further. "And don't worry about the cost, Garrett pays for the dress, so I'm sure he expects other costs as well...damn, but isn't he generous to you?" The pirate finished the question with a wink, turning Merrill's bristle into an angry blush as the seamstress still circling Merrill threw her a curious glance.

"Yeah, too generous if you ask me..." Aveline muttered, making Merrill blink in surprise, even _Isabela_ looked at the woman with shock, making the Captain roll her eyes. "Don't you guys realise how this will look? I'm sure as hell that _Garrett_ does, yet he goes through with it anyway...sometimes I just don't understand that man." _Huh_?

"Well yes, _I_ get how it'll look." Aveline rolled her eyes at Isabela's reply, yet the pirate continued. "But who cares about what those old nobles think, eh?"

"_Garrett_ cares."

"E-excuse me? What are they caring about?" Merrill couldn't help but ask, grimacing as she realised how foolish she must sound for not realising whatever it was the humans found so obvious. _Their world is still so foreign at times_...

Isabela and Aveline exchanged a glance. _Uh oh_. It was the auburn woman who replied in the end, the pirate looking a little uncomfortable as Aveline spoke. "You _do_ realise how you, an elven woman, coming along with Garrett, a human noble, will _look_, right...?"

"Errr...like he's bringing a elf?" Merrill blinked. "I realise it might look a little strange with an elven guest, but surely once we speak to people they'll understand what-"

"They'll assume you're his mistress." Aveline snapped.

Merrill went rigid, the blood draining from her face. "Th-they wouldn't...?"

"Oh they would, it's not like you'd be the first elven 'friend' or 'companion' to come with a noble in Kirkwall." Aveline grimaced. "I suppose Garrett thinks like you, that you'd be able to explain...doubt it'll be that easy though, people are quick to jump to assumptions."

Isabela was shrugging though. "Still, as I said, who cares? Not like them thinking he does what half the other nobles do is some big deal."

Aveline shook her head, eyes flashing with irritation. "I'm sure the Reinharts will care, if you recall our previous conversation..."

The way she nodded at Merrill, as if the elf wouldn't pick up on the 'subtle' hint, made the Dalish frown. _A talk about me when I wasn't around_? _Or about me and Garrett_? _Can people __stop__ assuming things_!? "_What_ previous conversation? And what _about_ the Reinharts?"

Again, Isabela and Aveline exchanged a glance.

Yet this time it was the pirate who answered, the woman shrugging, trying to look casual but failing. "Well...it's no secret the Reinharts', a strong noble family, is trying to marry into the growing power of the Hawkes' with their daughter."

_What_? Merrill stared at the pirate. _I_..._he's said nothing about that_...

Aveline shook her head, giving Merrill a sympathetic look before turning to face Isabela. "Maybe so, but you weren't there, it didn't look all that promising to me, Garrett's not the most charming of men and Cecei...well I've heard some rumours about her."

_He's getting married_? _Garrett_? _I'm not sure_..._maybe that would make him happy_? _Though arranged sounds_..._wrong_..._yes_..._wrong_..._wrong and stupid_.

"Ohhh...what rumours?! Dish, dish, girl." Isabela grinned.

"Let's just say there's a reason she's not often in public and leave it at that...and yes, I _do_ mean leave it like that, I'm not one for gossip." Aveline snorted, then turned back to Merrill with a hesitant smile. "You okay? You look...off."

Merrill blinked. "Me? Yes, I'm fine, I was just...err...thinking about the dress."

Isabela rolled her eyes at the reply, but Aveline cocked her head to the side and frowned, looking the dress over as the seamstress paused, apparently ready to heed some command or suggestion. "What about it? It looks fine to me." The seamstress snorted. "Yes, yes, you're going to do loads of modifications to it, I know...anyway, Merrill, what do you suggest?"

Merrill, suddenly scrambling for something to say, now that she was actually asked, shifted where she stood, feeling the silk swish back and forth around her. "Err...well...it's beautiful but kind of hard to move in...isn't it?" Behind her, the seamstress let lose a small chuckle. "Maybe if we cut it open along one or two sides like with my tabard, at least along the legs, it would be easier to move in?" The chuckle died.

Isabela took a step forward, then another, a _big_ grin on her face. "Oh yes! Let's-"

"_No_." Aveline snapped, glaring at Isabela, then Merrill, daring them to contradict her.

Isabela actually shirked back at that, nodding in agreement, yet Merrill found herself raising her chin. "Why not? It would be easier to walk in _and_ cooler in this heat...?"

"Why not?" Aveline echoed, giving Merrill an incredulous look. "You want exposed legs? I thought you wanted people _not_ to think you as Garrett's mistress?"

_Oh_. Merrill flushed, realising what the Guard-Captain was referring to. _I forgot, bare legs in human society is kind of rare and...I've been around Isabela too much_. "Well...no...?" _Bet it would look nice though, bet that Cecei wouldn't_... Merrill shook her head, frowning in irritation.

"Good, that's that then." Aveline sighed, then looked Merrill over. "You sure you're okay though? You look a little...flushed?"

"I'm fine, thank you." Merrill offered a pale smile, not quite sure why she felt so...upset.

Isabela, smiling, moved towards the table of treats, grabbing a bottle of wine and beginning to pour the contents into a glass. "Some more wine, Merrill?"

"Creators, yes!"

8

8

8

"You're going to love her dress."

"I'm sure it'll look nice." Garrett replied, not about to be baited by Isabela into some discussion about him and Merrill. It was a non-issue where Garrett knew any denial would just further convince Isabela of her notions._ Me and an elf_..._ridiculous_. _Besides, I have a duty to the family, although I'm sure I could get away with it with some forward planning_..._not that that's necessary, since I have no plans in that direction, but still_. "Now, could you please focus? We're here."

They were in the city's main port. The hustle and bustle of the city was at its greatest there, with pickpockets, sailors and dockworkers all pressing against one another as they struggled to move through the cramped streets. From numerous windows facing the street, prostitutes and merchants alike called out to sell their services, while many a side-passage lead to immense warehouses, many Garrett knew to be Reinhart's property, the golden goose of the noble. _Maker, I hope the man won't take me bringing Merrill the wrong way_..._maybe I can soften the blow with some business-deal_?_ I do want the farmlands he's got_..._not that there's any real insult intended with bringing Merrill, but I should consider the fallout none the less_._ Maybe they'll tell Cecei not to court me any more right away_? Garrett felt a twinge of relief at the thought.

Fortunately for them, Garrett had anticipated the bustle of the port midday, and as such brought plenty of muscle. Maric, now recovered from his poor stomach, stood on the man's left, all muscle and fur. And if the dog wasn't intimidating enough, Garrett had ten men in full armour and drawn swords in a circle around him, Maric and Isabela, forming a private island for them in the centre to talk in. _Best be on the safe side with Petrice about_..._hopefully the Cats are watching us too_.

"Fine, fine, I'll focus..." Isabela snickered. "Still, I think you'll-"

"Isabela." Garrett growled, shooting the pirate a glare, then nodded out towards the harbour. "Look."

The pirate obeyed...and gasped. "It's _beautiful_..."

It _was_ a beautiful sight, actually, the spring sun was scorching, but it also made the water of the harbour glitter like emeralds. It made the buildings near the harbour shine white and clean, even the seagulls looked more majestic than they should as they soared over a ship slowly moving out of port.

Garrett guessed Isabela's focus lay on the ship _in_ the harbour though, or more specifically, the lean two-master with the Hawke heraldry fluttering high on its pennons. _Don't know much about boats, but my expert told me it's a fine ship_..._guess_ _Isabela_ _agrees_. "You like it?"

"I...wow...it's amazing...what speed is it capable of?" Isabela was nearly drooling, making Garrett chuckle.

"I don't rightly know, but you may soon find out." Isabela blinked, giving Garrett a confused look. "I'd like to hire you as Captain, Isabela." Again, the pirate blinked, seemingly lost for words, making Garrett shuffle where he stood. "I'm starting up my own shipping company, this ship would be carrying luxury items, and quickly, is my hope. You and I...we might not always see eye to eye, but I've asked around and there's no denying that pirate Isabela is known as a great captain."

"I...I..." Isabela stared at Garrett, then to the ship, then back to him, then back to the ship.

Garrett, confused, cocked his head to the side. _She looks_..._lost_? _Isabela_, _lost_?! "I will of course not demand an answer right now, but if you'd like to think it over and maybe-"

"No."

Garrett blinked, staring at the pirate in surprise. "No...?"

Isabela was looking at the ship, a look of anguish passing by her face for a fraction of a moment before she blinked it away. "I...not that I don't appreciate the gesture, I do...I...wow, I _really_ do, but no." She looked to Garrett, offering a smile struggling to look wry. "I'm a pirate, not a merchant captain, I love my freedom, not..._routes_."

Garrett, still stunned that Isabela would turn down an offer for a ship she'd looked so hungrily at just a moment ago, shook his head. "But it's...you _do_ realise how much a captain is paid, no? A few years of work, actually being _at_ _sea_, rather than in a tavern, and you could afford your _own_ ship. I know you're not patient, but surely it's a _massive_ step on the way to what you want, while preparing for it as well...?"

"Yeah...not feeling it, sorry." Isabela replied, the wry smile still looking somewhat forced.

Garrett stared at her for a long while, watching the woman's smile falter as she shuffled under his gaze...and then shook his head. "Is something wrong? I was sure you'd jump at this opportunity...why stay in Kirkwall with no opportunity to get your ship, instead of this...?"

"Maybe I'm getting used to land...?" Isabela tried, struggling to smile.

"Isabela..." Behind him, a shout made Garrett lose his line of thoughts. "...I, this is ridiculous. Why wouldn't you want to be sailing when I'm offering what's nearly a free ship with a _minimal_ of obligations? Everything I know about you tells me you'd be jumping at this opportunity yet.." Again, the shout brought him to a stop. "...yet..." A louder shout. "Oh for bloody..." Turning, Garrett looked to the source of the shouts, finding the entrance to the Qunari compound far in the distance...and all too visible with the sudden numbers of Qunari on the walls above the gate and the throng of a crowd assembled outside, making all other people pull away. "Damn, again? Isabela, we'll have to talk about this later, it seems I have a fire to put out..."

"Sure, sure, but pardon me for not wanting to participate in this...I've got enough trouble as it is." Isabela replied, and Garrett felt her step out of his ring of guards and into the crowd, slipping away like only she was capable of.

_Sure, __you__ have a lot of trouble_..._you don't know what trouble is_. Garrett shook his head and began to move towards the crowd, the men around him stiffening in worry as they prepared to protect their charge. "Maric, look fearsome." The dog growled back, teeth suddenly bared and fur along his back on end. "Perfect."

As they came closer, it became easier to move forward as anyone not in the throng threateningly facing the gates of the Qunari compound slipped away.

Finally, with a good twelve feet separating Garrett and his entourage from the crowd, he came to a stop, listening to the shouts escaping them as they shook their fists at the Qunari atop the battlements above.

"Qunari, go home!"

"Stop indoctrinating our children!"

"What are you doing to our elves!?"

"What are you hiding!?"

"The Qun is filth!"

"Monsters! Monsters the lot of you!"

On the compound walls, the line of Qunari warriors looked down, unfazed.

Garrett's gaze moved past the group of largely dirt-poor people that made up the crowd, though with some alarm he found several that had to come at least from the middle-class, and fixed his eyes on the one looking all prim and proper in the sea of people. "Petrice, I didn't know the Chantry now supported public disorder? Should I send the guard to the church, perhaps?"

A few in the crowd shot the noble surprised and worried glances, yet all continued with their shouting.

Petrice slipped out of the crowd easily though, her movement confident as a snake sneaking up on its prey as she gazed up at Garrett. "The Chantry? You mistake me, Hawke, I'm simply here as a concerned citizen."

"Your vestments seem to imply otherwise." Garrett scoffed back, gesturing at the robes of the Chantry the woman so brazenly wore. "Wearing that, you represent the Chantry itself...I _hope_ the Grand Cleric is aware of this?"

"Is it not every priestess' duty to care for the souls of those burning with the light of the Maker?" Petrice replied, smile cold. "As for the Grand Cleric...I wouldn't trouble her, if were I you, she's _very_ sick..." The priestess took a step closer, smile turning yet colder. "...she'll soon be with the Maker, and then...well someone will have to take her place, someone with a lot of support with the local priestesses, as well as the flock..."

"Namely you." Garrett grunted, not in the least surprised. "The Maker sure seems to have a sense of humour, the Grand Cleric is old, but she wasn't so sick until just a few years ago...about the same time you arrived, no?" _Subtle as wall, only reason no one stops you is because they either fear you or don't care_..._too much of the later in this city_. "Fortune smiles on you, it seems."

Petrice ignored the jab, instead she looked to the men surrounding Garrett, looking mildly surprised. "Guards, Hawke? I thought you were famous for just walking around with your mutt?"

Maric's growl was loud enough to make Petrice freeze for a moment, the people of the crowd nearest her backing away in fright even as they struggled to maintain their chanting, their attention divided. Garrett's tone was polite though. "Well things happen, one must be prepared."

"Yes..." Petrice shook herself out of the fright Maric had induced, smiling. "...things happen." She took a step closer, then another one, hands pushing aside the two nearest guards so she had a clearer path to Garrett. "But they don't have to, do they? Not when you have the Maker on _your_ side."

Garrett arched an eyebrow, but said nothing. _Oh this will no doubt be amusing_.

Emboldened by his lack of reply, Petrice took another step closer, then froze as Maric let lose another low growl. Her smile remained though, clever and confident. "It's no secret that you oppose the power the templars have amassed, that you want them back to their _proper_ place. Together, we could put Meredith in her place. With a _strong_ Grand Cleric at the head of the Chantry, as well as a strong leader of the secular, the templars could well be brought to order..."

Garrett chuckled. "Ah, so this alliance would make _you_ the Grand Cleric and put the templars under _your_ control...let me guess, in exchange for this _privilege_, I'm supposed to aid you removing the Qunari?" He shook his head. "That's nonsense, we're not allies, nor friends, and your deal is a foolish game of wit a child could see through." Petrice's smile curdled as Garrett raised his voice. "I have _no_ interest in seeing you as Grand Cleric, _nor_ in command of the largest military in Kirkwall, _or_ to the start of a war with arguably the _strongest_ military force in _Thedas_." A few heads in the crowd turned.

_That got their attention_.

"I'm surprised _anyone_ would want to pick a fight with a Qunari, never mind their entire military. Do you think their size intimidating? Just wait until they hurl a javelin as tall as yourself at you, or do you think those spears of theirs are just for show? I've seen them in use, accurate and deadly to anyone not behind a shield."

Petrice, glancing back, growled something under her breath before replying with an equally strong voice. "Their strength has never been in question, it's their _faith_, and their _behaviour_ that should be investegated. The light of the Maker shines not on them, nor on their growing following, is this not a great danger?"

"I wouldn't start speaking of behaviour, if I were you. The Qunari have done precisely _nothing_ since they've entered this city... the same cannot be said for those who would try to antagonise them. Something _they_ might not react to, but _I_ will...and I'm not known for my kindness." Garrett held Petrice's gaze as he felt the crowd behind her shift in worry. "As to whatever light shines on them or not...the greatest sinner at the time of Andraste was her own husband, a worshipper of the Maker, so look to your own heart before judging others." Petrice opened her mouth, ready to snap something back, but Garrett raised his voice further, looking to the crowd with narrowed eyes. "And there's _many_ kinds of lights in the world! That of the _law_! That of the _Qunari_! My own!" He looked the crowd over, holding each gaze in turn. "And believe me when I tell you this; you do _not_ want my light on you...this is an unlawful assembly, this is an assembly _personally_ insulting me and my work...not to mention _them_..." He pointed up at the Qunari at the battlements, several now holding javelins in their hands. "...remove yourselves."

Some at the back of the crowd began to slip away, the others looking uncertain, gazes darting between Garrett and the giants on the battlements. Again, Petrice tried to speak up...and then gasped as Garrett took a quick step forward, his bulk making her take a step back and trip on her robe, nearly making her fall over before she caught herself with one hand, he kept his eyes on the crowd though, ignoring her.

His voice snapped like a whip. "_Now_."

A mutter, then a grumble...and the crowd began to disperse, heads turning to glance at Garrett and the Qunari with both fear and anger as they hurried off.

"You will pay for this, Hawke..." Petrice grumbled, straightening, grimacing as she clenched a hand scrapped raw. Throwing the Qunari a glare, then spitting at Garrett's feet, she turned to leave. "...oh you'll pay...this isn't the last you've seen of me."

Watching the priestess leave with a shake of his head, Garrett couldn't stop his own mutter. "People keep saying that...never actually seem to make me pay though." Behind him, one of his guards chuckled.

Garrett's own chuckle died in his throat though, his gaze drawn up to the battlements.

The Arishok was now atop the wall, looking down at him.

Forcing himself not to swallow under the scrutiny of the hard eyes of the Qunari, Garrett offered a nod. The Arishok nodded back, then turned his head, looking to where the crowd had left.

The Arishok's face was unreadable, yet his eyes...something in them made Garrett shiver.

8

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8

_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for never sleeping on the job_


	53. Chapter 53

"I hope you know what you're doing."

Garrett sighed, one of the buttons on the white shirt he was putting on seemingly too large for its hole, making him struggle._ Lousy tailor, should have hired that seamstress I put on Merrill's dress_. "Mother, don't I _always_ know what I'm doing?"

They were in the same room, a simple changing room that was far too large for its purpose in Garrett's opinion. Though he usually thought _every_ room in the estate was too large for what it was supposed to do, which meant he was either right but with no choice but to endure, or wrong and simply still accustomed to life as the poor.

Being in the same room didn't mean they saw one another though. Since both were changing for the Reinhart party a wooden screen had been erected along the length, hiding Garrett's mother from view as their new elven servant Orana, skittish but otherwise excellent, helped the woman with all the preparations she insisted she needed. Again, Garrett thought it somewhat silly, back in Ferelden he'd seen his mother naked many times, simply because the cramped living situation made privacy impossible.But apparently, if one could afford something in Kirkwall, it became required. _Somewhat annoying to talk to a wooden wall though_...

Behind the screen, there was a little gasp as Leandra went through whatever she felt was required to look presentable, her voice a little strained. "Well there was that one time in Ferelden with that ogre..."

Garrett, running a hand through his hair, shivered at the memory. "I knew what I was doing then, mother."

For a moment, silence reigned. When Leandra replied, her voice was muted. "I'd like to think you didn't."

Swallowing, he sometimes forgot how little his mother knew of what he'd done and how much he'd fought to get them where they are, Garrett changed the subject back to the more immediate issue. "As to Merrill, it's done now, she asked to come and I said yes, there's no going back on it now."

"Well maybe you shouldn't have said yes in the first place..." Leandra paused, no doubt sensing Garrett's frown. "...sorry, but think about it, honey, think of how it'll _look_."

"I'm _aware_ of how it'll look." Garrett grimaced. By all rights, he should have asked Merrill not to come, made some excuse...yet for some reason he hadn't been able to bring himself to do that. "However, while I know people might view this in a certain light, I'm more than willing to educate them, should they ask, and even if they don't." _It won't convince many, but_..._do_ _I_ _care_? He shook aside the peculiar thought. _If I want to bring her, I will_. "I'm not ashamed of who my friends are, you've yet to complain about me inviting Varric."

"Well Varric's..._Varric_." Leandra grunted. "But that elf..."

"Her _name_ is _Merrill_, and you know it." Garrett snapped, frowning in irritation, he found his mother's growing dislike of the elf more and more irritating. Had she not saved Garrett's life and helped in putting the Hawkes where they were?

"And what about the Reinharts?! Their daughter?" Garrett sighed. _I_, _well_..._errr_... "You're bringing Merrill to _their_ party...the richest and arguably most powerful noble family in Kirkwall...and you're very close to insulting them in public!"

"As I said..." Garrett cleared his throat, looking down to make sure the white shirt and wide black trousers he wore looked okay on him. With the heat of the spring, he'd chosen to wear the lightest of possible clothing while still retaining some acceptable standard. "...I'm more than willing to explain who she is." _And who is she_? He shook his head, the thought not helping."Even if it causes some issues, I believe I can moderate things. Cecei might be introduced to some other noble, but Charles is a businessman, and I have business-deals of interest to him."

"You're...ready to give up Cecei already?" Leandra asked, something in her voice seeking an answer beyond what she was asking.

Garrett frowned at the floor, then shrugged. "I've not exactly proposed, have I? I'm simply looking at what might happen, a marriage alliance to the Reinharts isn't really necessary, to be honest."

"That's not what you said before. You said an alliance of the Reinharts could be useful..."

"Well the alliance doesn't have to be via _marriage_." Garrett argued, finding himself bothered by his own reply. _Sounds like I'm making excuses rather than looking at the easiest path_..._why_? "Cecei is nice, polite...but seems somewhat dull, pardon me for saying."

"You barely know her!" Leandra protested, then gasped as Orana did something to her dress. _Ridiculous_ _thing_.

"Yet I'm supposed to marry her?" Garrett countered. "Mother, I'll marry and court whoever I want to. I know that might be very Fereldian of me, but I do believe I'm the one making this decision. Besides, you yourself ran away with an apostate mage. I don't think you have much of a leg to stand on when speaking of who I should have romantic inclinations towards."

"I...your father and I..." Leandra hesitated. "...it was a very tumultuous situation, and I _would_ do it again...but never doubt I gave up _a lot_ for him, son. You got it all back for us, and you worked so hard and gave up so much for it, _bled_ for it, don't think I don't know it...and I'd just hate to see you lose all that."

Garrett's shoulders slumped, heart heavy with the sudden pang of grief, mixed with guilt. _Sister, the blood I could spare, but_..._Maker, I don't pray for you often enough, as I promised I would_..._always something else happening_..._I'm_ _sorry_. "I understand that, mother, that's...thank you. But you yourself said love wasn't something one could plan or reason about, remember, back about Aveline?"

"I did, didn't I? Figures you should start listening to me now." Leandra chuckled. "Also, I can't help but notice that you're arguing as if you actually _are_ feeling something for the girl...?"

Garrett blinked, his cheeks flushing for half a second as he stared at the wooden screen between them. "I...that's not what I said. I was merely pointing out that in the _theoretical_ scenario of such a romance, you're really in no position to criticise. And of course, I'd take precautions not to lose everything, I've gotten quite good at coming out on top, if you haven't noticed." He caught himself clearing his throat. "Not that that's needed, since she and I aren't...you know."

The silence behind the screen was deafening, making Garrett shift where he stood.

Then Leandra stepped around the screen, her grey hair up, held together by ruby-decorated pins, her bright red dress slashed by a bone-coloured corset. Garrett, seeing her offering an uncertain smile, stepped closer to kiss her forehead, hands on her shoulders. "You look beautiful."

Leandra bit her bottom lip, looking him up and down with a strange look on her face...and then smiled, cocking her head to the side as a hand moved up to stroke his cheek, eyes soft. "I just want you to be _happy_...if she-"

"She and I are _not_-"

"Of course not." Leandra offered a soft chuckle, kissing his other cheek. "Now, go get her and Varric, we're running late."

Nodding, Garrett eagerly turned and marched for the nearest door, his back stiffening as his mother chuckled at him.

The little room he entered was dominated by a rectangular table, a hearth at the centre and a door at the other end. To Garrett's disappointment, there were only three people in the room. Varric, boots on the table and leaning back on his chair...and two guards leaning over the table, eyes wide on the dwarf as he drawled. "...and then they made me their chief." The man looked up a second later, smiling. "Hawke! Finally!"

Garrett couldn't help but give a tight smile as the two guards jumped to their feet and hurriedly got to attention. "Darren, Jeannie...aren't you two free for the day?"

"Well yes, serah, but..." Darren muttered, gesturing at Varric, as if that was all the explanation needed.

And it was. "Yes, Varric's good at distracting people...do you know where the Hanged Man is?" The two guards nodded in unison, eyes betraying their confusion. "Head there at some other date but today, and you'll likely find Varric. Knowing him, he'll have another story ready just for you." The two guards managed a pair of sheepish grins at that. "So off you go, I'm not paying overtime for story time." The sheepish grins turned to a chuckle, making Varric shoot Garrett an encouraging wink. "Go!"

The two guards moved to obey, opening the door at the far end and leaving in a hurry, suddenly remembering the time and the need to get home.

Behind the door, there was no sign of Merrill.

Garrett, frowning, turned his attention back to the dwarf. "Varric? You're wearing that to the party?"

The dwarf's eyes flashed in amusement at the somewhat gruff greeting. "What's wrong with it?"

"It's your leather coat."

"My _best_ one, can't you tell?" Varric chuckled as Garrett's eyes darted back to the doorway. "I'll not embarrass you, don't worry...and she's coming, relax." Garrett shot the dwarf a scathing look, making Varric arch an eyebrow. "Tell me you're not looking for Merrill." 

_Why is everyone implying_..._argh_. With a growl, Garrett changed the subject. "How are the Cats doing?" Varric arched _both_ eyebrows at that, making Garrett raise both hands. "Sorry, sorry...I meant...sorry. Anyway, the Cats?"

"They've expanded a little, but carefully, as you suggested, got a _lot_ of recruits though." Varric chuckled. "It's interesting to listen to them speak of the honour of thieves, they seem to speak of it like it existed before them." The dwarf shrugged. "Not sure what we've unleashed, Hawke, hope for a better future is great, but dangerous if things _don't_ get better."

Garrett shrugged. "Then we make things better, don't we?" The dwarf chuckled, though the sound turned to an impressed snort when he noticed Garrett looking serious. "And the Coterie? How do they view the Cats?"

"Well I hear from them now and again, and as far as I recall, the Cats are 'fancily equipped, stupid and not worthy of note'...so I guess mission's a success there?" Varric replied, then shrugged. "If we remain careful, they can expand their influence without any trouble, creating peace, happiness, and a little pony for every child." A wink. "That's the aim, right?"

"The _aim_ is to reduce crime and create slowly expanding zones of stability that'll make the city less..." At the other end of the room, Merrill slipped in through the doorway, quiet as a mouse. "...volatile...?"

_I'm staring, why am I staring_?

The elf wore a thin golden necklace around her slim neck, a tiny wooden halla attached to the end. Her hair, usually curled into bangs and held back by a series of leather strings, was now hanging freely back and nearly touching her shoulders, though a few rogue strands had already worked their way over her forehead.

The dress...Garrett had of course approved the design, since the seamstress had been quiet adamant about not having a refund demanded of her at a later date...looked far better on her than he'd imagined when seeing it on paper.

It was simple in its cut, as softly green as Merrill's eyes, smooth and elegant, the neckline high while wide shoulder-straps were held together with little golden flowers. Her exposed arms showed off tattoos of dark vines in the same style of those on her face, that mixed with her green dress gave her a surprisingly 'earthy' look considering the elegance of the dress, as if she'd grown from the very ground itself.

Merrill, shifting under his silent stare, fidgeted and flushed. "I...I know it's a bit much, b-but the others insisted..."

"Actually, I think it's just right." Varric chuckled, then cleared his throat. "Right, Garrett?"

Garrett shook his head, annoyed with himself for the inexplicable lapse of concentration. "What? Yes, yes of course it's all right." Merrill blinked at him, confused, making him realise how rude his comment might sound. "I mean it's fine, err, _good_, it looks good on you, even though it's not normal for you." Again, she blinked at him, making Garrett shift where he stood. "Not saying you look bad normally, I just meant...it's a different _kind_ of good, that you don't normally look like this..." _Wow, why don't I punch her while I'm at it_? "...errr...what I _mean_ to say is-"

"If you can't tell, kitten..." Varric interrupted with a smirk, standing up and straightening his coat. "...him babbling like that is actually a compliment. He _likes_ your look, would probably say you're _beautiful_, if he wasn't so busy tripping over his own tongue." Garrett shot the dwarf a glare, one Varric happily ignored.

"Oh. Well...good." Merrill managed to look confused even as her ears turned a shade of pink. "Not that that's what I was aiming for...I mean I was _aiming_ for good, but not beautiful...well beautiful _is_ good but I didn't mean to make you think that...or...errr..." In the background, Varric was chuckling as Garrett watched Merrill swallow. "Beautiful is good though, thank you...I...you look beautiful too? No, that sounds wrong...good? I...handsome?" Merrill winced even as Garrett felt himself looked away._ This is ridiculous_. "Not that I know much about what's handsome or not, or even have _looked_, I mean I'm not saying you're not...errr..."

To Garrett's _immense_ relief, Varric spoke up again. "While this is fun and all...don't we have a party to get to?"

A look of relief crossed Merrill's face, then her face split into a grin. "Oh yes! I saw the carriage we're taking! It's _amazing_! Come, this way!"

As she turned and hurried back out, Garrett found himself staring at an exceedingly _slim_, _tattooed_ and _bare_ back...

Moving to stand next to him, Varric chuckled at whatever he was seeing. "Garrett, Garrett, this is getting ridiculous."

"Huh?" Blinking, Garrett looked down at the dwarf, confused.

Varric just rolled his eyes. "Never mind..."

8

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8

"You know..." Merrill smacked her lips in appreciation, the woman being on what Garrett believed to be her _third_ oyster, the elf having exclaimed her delight at the new taste an hour ago...quiet loudly, if the looks thrown at the pair at that instant was any judge. "...I can't figure out how this roof was built? How does it stand up?!"

Garrett smiled softly at the question, unsurprised yet pleased to hear it, though his gaze scanned the great hall, his nerves on edge, expecting trouble. "You know, I asked that very question last time I was here, none could give a satisfying answer, not even the Reinharts themselves. I'd love to get a hold of the architect, if he's still alive." _Not that that's my highest priority at the moment_.

Having entered the Reinhart's great hall near two hours ago, Garrett and his party had initially found themselves accosted by quite a few amused and curious nobles that were without a doubt fishing for gossip while quietly judging him when out of sight. By now they had retreated, if it was because they'd now judged Garrett as a social pariah, or unsure if he was or not and wanting to wait and see...or maybe just to gossip about 'his elf', Garrett wasn't sure...and it worried him. _This was a mistake_.

He was stranding at one end of the buffet table, Merrill standing by his right, eyes wide as she took in all the sights still, unable to contain her wonder, or even think that it might look silly in the eyes of others. _Honest and innocent, more so than the rest of us in the room combined, sometimes I envy you, must feel nice, always looking at the world and seeing wonders, rather than problems_. Maric was sitting on his haunches on Garrett's left, the hound even more quiet than usual, scanning the room as warily as Garrett, the two of them putting each other on edge with their worries that neither was allowed to show.

Across the hall, there were a great many talking and dancing nobles, just as in the previous party. Though now there were bigger groups of them just talking, too many no doubt talking about Garrett and his 'courtesan', _despite_ him introducing her as a friend. _This is bad_. Further off, near the bar, Viscount Dumar was as usually being harassed by two dozen minor nobles, all fishing for various jobs within his administration, or plainly wanting to look important by being near him, unaware how little importance the man really played in the running of the city.

To make matters worse, Leandra had been dragged off by Comte De Launcet. Currently, his mother was dancing with the man, both as elegant as butterflies as they glided across the floor in perfect sync. Meanwhile the man's wife Dulci looked on from the sidelines, biting her bottom lip, her face dusted into a white mask by too much powder...though under it, Garrett no doubt thought her face either red with anger or pale with worry. _Bloody_..._I know I'm in no position to judge, but mother will cause gossip if she continues to be so friendly with the man_.

Varric was off in a corner of the great hall. At first, it had been somewhat of another disaster, dwarves were not uncommon among Kirkwall nobility, but a dwarf commoner that didn't even dress up for the occasion was another matter. Varric had taken their initial disdain with a smirk though, and by now he was sitting on a bench, regaling a large crowd of nobles with some fictional story that left far too many of them staring in a very un-noble way, their courtly manners forgotten.

Most vital of interest were the Reinharts though, and the result there had been...mixed to say the least, and Garrett wasn't sure what to make of it. As the family had come to greet Garrett and his entourage on entry, things had been awkward but manageable...yet Garrett wasn't sure what to make of it.

Cecei had looked surprised at the elf's appearance...then she had smiled, and not the previous polite one from last time they'd met, but a more _genuine_ one...with a hint of amusement in her eyes. Garrett wasn't sure where she was now, since she'd excused herself so soon after, but wherever it was, it was _not_ with him to check if he really _meant_ what he'd said during the introductions about Merrill being his friend. _Like she doesn't care_..._huh, odd, I know I'm not the most charming of men, but I'd at least expected something else but relief_... Annoyed, Garrett found his ego somewhat bruised by that, despite it being such a welcome reaction.

Charles had looked displeased, displeased with a hint of dark calculations. Garrett was sure the man was too greedy to spend sums on revenge for the perceived slight, but no doubt Charles felt obliged to at least show others that his house was not to be insulted, which would probably have ended with all manners of minor headaches for Garrett. Yet Garrett had somehow managed to save things there. He'd long been bothered by Charles owning all the farmland surrounding the city and thereby having his boot on the city's throat, and as such offered to buy them...given the circumstances, he'd made the offer _ridiculously_ generous.

Given the way he wanted to change the land to have a more Ferelden-style farms where the peasants became a viable middle-class, as well as the initial cost for the land, Garrett didn't expect to make a profit of it until on his deathbed. In fact, the cost was so great that even _Garrett's_ treasury, with it no longer being constantly filled by returning expeditions as the darkspawn below grew in numbers, had been severely diminished.

Reinhart had of course been eager to sell for such a large amount of money, and had further been eager to make more deals with the Hawke's after that. Garrett felt fairly certain that way had stopped the man from causing trouble for him further on, Charles would always choose money over pride. _Man thinks me a fool for the deal though, but there are other profits than that of gold _..._as long as my trading-fleet grows, money will not be a problem, but even with me going with a loss on the farms, a happy and loyal body of citizens brings its own rewards_.

Lowyn Reinhart though...there was no love to recover there, her eyes had flashed daggers at Garrett ever since he'd entered with Merrill on his arm, and his attempts to explain that the elf was his friend had merely been met with a haughty look and jowls trembling with indignant rage. Even now, he could feel her eyes on him, eyes smouldering with anger. _One would think, given Cecei's reaction, that the mother's reaction would be more_..._tempered_?_ Perhaps I have missed something_.

What Garrett _hadn't_ missed was that any future marriage proposals to Cecei, and perhaps most noblemens' daughters', was on ice for the near future...at least until he made it clear he was on the market, as it were.

Garrett found that oddly relaxing.

Still, he was now stuck in a party where none really was sure if they could approach and talk to him, which was not only worrying, but annoying. _I'm supposed to be the ruler behind the throne, I can't rule without people willing to speak to me_..._Maker, I'll have some letters to write after this, more deals to make, people to remind of our previous deals_..._I'll mitigate the impact of this, and then when they see Charles still working with me, they'll come back around_.

It _did_ leave him nearly alone at the party though, which was somewhat humiliating whenever he thought on it. _At least Merrill's here, Maker knows she's more fun to talk to than most here anyway_. Garrett shot the elf a brief smile, gaze lingering on her lips as they found their way to yet another oyster. _That looks tasty_. He shook his head. "Your stomach will rebel if you keep eating those, you know."

Merrill offered a toothy grin rhyming poorly with her elegant dress. "Worth it."

Garrett chuckled, looked about...and froze as he caught sight of Meredith. The Knight-Commander was scowling...and heading right for Garrett. "Merrill, go to the balconies, I'll find you there."

"Wha..?" Merrill looked about, trying to find the cause for Garrett's sudden hard tone.

"Go!"

The elf, recognising his urgency, quickly moved, making several nobles gasp in shock at the speed which the Dalish elbowed her way through them without a sign she was aware of the disparity between their social standings. Despite the seriousness of the situation, the look of horror on a noble-woman's face as the smaller Dalish pressed past her with nary a curtsy made Garrett smirk.

Then Meredith was in front of him, standing tall and straight like an oak. "Hawke, we meet again." There was a chill in her voice, face twisted into a scowl. "I have things to discuss with you."

"Knight-Commander, always a pleasure." Garrett lied, smiling with as much friendliness as he could muster. In contrast to last time, he now felt ready to face Meredith, prepared and even_ looking forward_ to it. "I actually have things to discuss with you too, so it's good that you've come." The templar blinked in surprise, the two guards at her back looking at Garrett in shock...as did a few of the nearest nobles as the eavesdropped. _No one_ spoke like that to Meredith. "But by all means, ladies first."

Meredith recovered quickly, scowl deepening. "It seems you've been funding the city guard quite a lot of money as of late, a city guard with your friend as Captain."

"I have many friends, Commander." Garrett smiled politely. "As for funding the guard...thank you, I'm glad someone has taken note of my contribution to those upholding law and order in the city. Though I feel compelled to say it's just me doing my patriotic duty, your appreciation is none the less kindly received."

"My...?" Meredith blinked, then somehow managed to straighten her back even further, making her seemingly grow an additional inch as she glared at Garrett. "Did you know that the city guard is refusing to obey my commands to search buildings containing potential apostates? Or rather, that the new Captain, _your_ friend, is?"

Garrett cocked his head to the side, playing the part of a puzzled man. "I'm sorry, serah, but I have little knowledge of the day to day actions of the guard, Aveline doesn't like me 'butting in', as she would say it." He frowned in thought. "That said, I _do_ know the law and I don't think templars are allowed to demand that the guard does...well..._anything_? It was admirable of the previous captain – his other corruption charges notwithstanding – to have been willing to assist in your duties, but it was hardly demanded of him. As I understand from my talks with Aveline, the city guard is taxed with works as it is...so her refusal to help you is hardly a case of spite, is it?" He smiled. "Of course, why thirty thousand templars would need the assistance of the guard that's a tenth of their numbers is beyond me...perhaps you could enlighten me?"

For a moment, there was a deathly silence as Garrett wondered if he'd gone too far. When Meredith replied though, it was with clipped words and a change of subject, the woman visibly fuming as nobles and servants alike looked on in wonder. _This'll be talked of, good, as long as I keep it up_. "We've had a lot of mages escaping lately, there seems to be some kind of resistance growing in Darktown You wouldn't know anything about that?"

It was a shot in the dark, and Garrett waved it aside with eyebrows arched, unimpressed and not about to reveal any guilt. "Of course not, Commander, but I'm glad we have the Maker's finest hunting them down. Do try to keep damages to a minimum though, the city's treasury is strained as it is."

In the crowd of nobles, someone chuckled at Garrett's words, only to go silent as Meredith shot a glare in that general direction. "Very well...as you say." The words were growled, the woman apparently realising she'd come in too boldly, not having anything prepared for someone not simply shaking in fear before her icy eyes. "Good bye."

"Before you go, I did mention I wanted to speak with you as well?" Garrett took a step forward, hand raised and a polite smile on his lips as he stopped Meredith in her attempted escape with nothing but courtesy. _Sword on your back won't help you now, nor the thirty thousand templars, nor your guards_..._oh I've waited for this_.

"Yes...?" Meredith slowly, unwilling and angry, turned back to face the noble.

"It seems there's some issues in your administration." Garrett begun, polite and correct. "I've heard worrying rumours of the rite of tranquility being performed on people not guilty of anything befitting such a punishment...?"

Meredith looked at him, eyes narrowing._ If you try asking me how I know that, it'll be easily explained, but you lash out if you like, it'll only make you seem foolish_. In the end though, the Commander thought better of it. "There was, but the guilty got their punishment." An image of Alrik with a hot poker glowing with lyrium stuck through his head flashed before Garrett's mind. _I bet_. "It's no longer a problem. Now if that was all...?" She turned to leave.

"_Actually_...it just makes me happy to know you are capable of so swiftly dealing with inaccuracies in your administration." Garrett took another step forward, making Meredith visibly hold back a groan as she turned to face him. "It seems several of your clerks have been coming to the Viscount's keep, more specifically, its treasury, and making withdrawals for..." Garrett feigned pondering the number. "...about ten thousand sovereigns in total?"

Meredith stared at him, face blank, unable to comprehend.

Garrett frowned back, as if confused. "I'm surprised our own clerks allowed it, especially without any papers written to when such a loan should be paid?" He smiled softly as Meredith's face turned hard. "Surely the Templar order doesn't think it can simply take money from Kirkwall's treasury whenever it wants? There are laws to consider, I hardly think the Templars an order capable of willingly breaking them, no? Unless...has the Divine requested this? And the Viscount signed it? I've seen no paper for this, so I'm curious...perhaps we should ask her?"

Meredith squeezed her lips together, glaring at him. Her final reply was a dull growl. "I'll see if I can have the money...returned."

"Thank you." Garrett kept his hand raised though, not about to let the templar leave. "Also, there _is_ the issue about that new keep of yours being built...it seems there was no permission asked of the Viscount? Nor any exchange of gold for the buying of the land it's built on? The ground _is_ the Viscount's property, you know. I'd hate to see you spend so much money on the keep..." _Money taken from __our__ treasury_. "...only to find it the property of the Viscount and not your order, or even worse, find yourself forced to demolish it."

"I'll send a clerk to you to go through it!" Meredith snapped the words now, scowling at him, daring him to continue.

Garrett gladly answered the challenge. "Also, there seems to be an issue with the way taxation works..." He frowned, shaking his head in confusion. "...someone must have written things wrong, for as it stands now, the state is being taxed by the Chantry three times _at least_, depending on what the money goes to. I find this odd since the law, as well as Chantry law, says the state and Chantry incomes should be held strictly _separate_...as in, there shouldn't be a tax in the first place?"

"The clerk can deal with that." Meredith darkly growled, turning to leave, barring no arguments as she begun to move.

Garrett, keeping his tone polite, took a third step forward, his smile struggling to remain polite rather than turning into a smirk. "Excellent, I look forward to meeting this clerk so we can go over this...could you send her over in maybe a week from now? Or is five days sufficient? I know there's a lot of papers for her to find before meeting me, so I'm not going to rush."

For a moment, Meredith was still as a statue...then she nodded without even glancing back, voice a low grumble. "Seven days it is."

With that, neither looking left or right, or acknowledging anyone in the room, Meredith marched away, heading straight for the exit and a humiliating retreat.

Only when she left, did Garrett notice the absence of the great hall's music by virtue of the musicians beginning to play again. Around him, nobles were still keeping their distance...but grins were being exchanged, a few chuckling under their breath as they tittered at one another, shooting Garrett the odd look. Some with amazement, others with shock...but most with approval, many even nodding at him, a few discreet thumbs moving up to show their support.

Taking a deep breath, finally allowing himself to relax, Garrett managed a numb smile and nodded at all acknowledging his victory. _That went really well_..._I was prepared but_..._Maker, glad it went well_. He felt a little dizzy. _I need air_.

Offering an apologetic nod and smile to a minor noble heading his way, as well as one towards a worried-looking Dumar in the distance, Garrett headed for the nearest balcony.

Yet when he came closer, he found a woman coming out from the twilight out of the balcony. _Cecei_? The woman didn't slow, she merely looked to him when she strutted past him, smirking and shooting him a decidedly dirty wink. _What the_...!? Garrett couldn't help but watch the woman brush past him and walk away, everything about her looking so different from what he'd seen in the previous party and their introduction._ Did that just...what is...wha?_ Shaking his head, wondering if he was seeing things, Garrett resumed moving for the balcony, the fresh air brushing in through the open glass doors welcoming him.

Outside, he found Merrill turning to look at him, hands behind her, resting on the balcony's banister. "There you are, I saw you talk to the Knight-Commander from a distance...I was...worried." Merrill looked away, biting her bottom lip.

Garrett, taking a deep breath, senses slowly coming back to him, couldn't help but look at the elf's face. "It's hard to see in the darkness, but are you...blushing?"

"Oh, am I? I didn't...well..." Merrill swallowed, looking back to him, eyes wide. "I just had a wonderful talk with this...Cecei, isn't it?" Again, she bit her bottom lip. "I'd heard you were going to marry her..." Garrett blinked. _How did she_..._Aveline_? _Isabela_? _Oh_ _for_ _bloody_... "Didn't sound like that when speaking to her though, not considering the things she told me..."

Garrett, shaking his head, moved to stand next to Merrill, resting a hand on the banister as he offered a reassuring smile, not sure why he was. "No, I'm not marrying her." Something flitted behind Merrill's eyes, but was gone in moments. "Now...what's this about her telling you things...?"

"Well she was telling me about this man she'd met..." Merrill begun, making Garrett blink in surprise. _So she's been_..._that's why the Reinhart's daughter isn't well-known and why they were trying to offer her to me_...? _Before I learnt of her_..._dallying_? "Actually...it was odd, she kept changing his _name_." Garrett blinked as Merrill frowned, tapping her lip with a finger and looking up at the night's sky. "I think she actually meant that there were several of them, sometimes, erm...sometimes at the _same time_..." The elf's blush flushed once more. "...I...maybe I understood it wrong, but Isabela tells such stories too, so I thought, maybe...I don't know." Garrett found a little laugh escaping him. "She's perfectly nice though! Once you get past the...graphical descriptions." Garrett's laugh turned into a chuckle as he struggled to contain it and keep it from exploding. _I can see why they wanted to marry her off_! _No wonder no one else has gotten her before me_! "Garrett? You okay? You look like you're about to explode..." Merrill snickered.

"I...it's nothing, nothing at all." Garrett, grinning, shook his head and looked back to Merrill, his mirth fading somewhat as he realised his laughing had drawn him a little closer to her. _Shouldn't be this close, anyone seeing us might_..._think_ _things_...

Merrill smiled back at him, then gave a little shake of her head, the movement causing the halla hanging from her golden necklace to roll across her skin, her smile turning uncertain before she looked away, gazing upwards. "The...sky's pretty tonight, isn't it? I can see all the constellations...I like the human ones, they're more varied than the Dalish ones. Funny how both have stories tied to them though."

Garrett looked at Merrill for a moment longer, then mimicked her stance, putting both hands against the banister as he leant back against it, his gaze moving upwards, to the darkness above and the twinkling points scattered across it.

Silence.

Then he found himself speaking. "Tell me about the Dalish ones, please."

Merrill's reply was soft. "O-okay..."

8

8

8

_Thank you to Abydos Jackson for fighting time and space itself._


	54. Chapter 54

"Well that was a disaster."

Garrett rolled his eyes, watching his mother sweep into their hallway, a silent Orana and Fenn moving to take her coat, which the woman shrugged off without a glance backwards. _Mother_... Garrett offered the pair of elves a thankful nod even as the woman moved to put Leandra's coat away while Fenn moved to assist Garrett who by now had already shrugged his off and held it out, well aware how little the servants liked it when he put the stuff away himself.

"I've never had to endure so many...suggestive questions in my life." Leandra shook her hair loose, the grey threads curling in the lamplight, shining like silver. "I know that that elf – sorry, Merrill – is nice and that you..._like_ her, but _Maker_..."

Garrett bit back an angry retort as he instead shrugged. "I don't know, I think it went quite well." He couldn't help but make his irritation drive him to speak again though. "Besides, I'm surprised you heard anything, the way you were glued to Comte De Launcet for most of the party." He reached down, scratching Maric behind the ear, the dog a statue at his feet, listening in on the conversation like a bored sentry.

Leandra turned to face him, sighing in irritation. "We've been over this, we're old friends, him and I, plus he's one of the few nobles not rendered uncertain about you after today...he told me so himself." _Did he now_? _Because he meant it, or because it was you he talked to_? Garrett scowled, making Leandra shake her head. "Don't throw away a friend. Surely you would see the foolishness of that above anyone? Especially in the wake of this evening?"

"I suppose..." Garrett winced, nodding to admit Leandra had a point. "Still, it wasn't as bad as you make it out to be. Charles might have a few smart things to say about me at times, but he's still an ally, if only in business. Lowyn might be upset, but she probably can't go against the will of her daughter...did you know Cecei has multiple lovers and didn't much care for marrying me? I asked around."

"Well...there might been a few whispers..." Leandra admitted, shifting where she stood. "I just figured that with you and her together she would...I don't know..." An exasperated sigh and her shoulders slumped. "I just wanted what's best for my child...but I guess you'll keep forging your own path, eh?" She smiled at the end. "If Merrill-"

"We're _not_-"

"Yes, yes, I'm sure you're not." Leandra rolled her eyes, then smiled at Garrett's frown. "Anyway, change of subject...you think it's not as bad as suggested by those I spoke to and overheard? I...hope you're right." She winced. "I'm not sure we'll be invited next time though...or if they do, what kind of a reception we'll get."

"A later problem." Garrett shrugged. "Right now, I still have some damage-control to do, but it's more manageable than I anticipated."

Leandra smiled softly at that. "Always the planner...was it worth it?"

Next to him, Maric suddenly looked up, the dog looking as curious as Garrett's mother.

Garrett hesitated at the question, eyebrows coming together in thought_. I got to speak to someone I like, over something other than platitudes and veiled business-deals, I got to learn about the Dalish constellations and got to avoid the headache Cecei might have become_..._and I got to enjoy myself at a party_. "Yes."

"Hmm." Leandra smiled, not saying anything, but the smile made Garrett grunt in irritation anyway. When she did speak, it was for yet another change of subject. "And Meredith? I – well _everyone_ – saw you speaking with her." Leandra winced, suddenly wringing her hands. "You think it's wise to antagonize her...?"

"I think someone should have done so years ago." Garrett grunted, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm not going to shy away from her because she has an army at her back, she's not some foreign occupier, but part of a religious order supposedly separate from the state. She needs to be reminded of this."

"Yes...but that _army_ you mentioned...not to mention that Carver is..."

Garrett chuckled. "What is she going to do? Turn it on me and the city? The Divine would have her head on a plate by next week, not to mention it would make the entirety of the Free Marches and maybe other nations expel the order out of fear of similar insurrections. The fear of her is founded on a fear of the most foolish and illogical action she could ever do, and therefore won't." Garrett shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. "And I just showed how toothless she really is, and when others realise that, they'll stop acting like she's the true ruler of Kirkwall." _And possibly stop pretending the Viscount is as well_..._it would be nice to get access to more of the administration of the city, too much is run with half-measures and inefficient solutions_.

"If you say so..." Leandra grimaced, taking a step back. "Just be careful, not everyone will see this as you, nor are they all as logical."

Garrett frowned. "I suppose, but you can't _really_ expect Meredith to-"

The entrance of Bastile, in armour, made Garrett and Leandra turn, the conversation ending abruptly as they saw the grim look on the warrior's face, the cane he was leaning on held more like a sword than an actual support now. The Orlesian's face was fixed on Garrett. "Serah, you have _guests_."

Garrett, exchanging a puzzled look with Leandra, was hesitant to ask. "What guests...? Who?"

"Two men and a woman, the woman's an elf calling herself _Athenril_." Maric, silent as the reaper, rose to his feet, teeth silently bared. _Oh no_. "She claims she knows you...?" The man shook his head, grim look turning yet harsher. "I nearly showed her the door, but she _suggested_ that that would be a bad idea..." The Orlesian raised his chin in anger, a defiant glow in his eyes. "I decided to have them wait for you."

Leandra was wringing her hands. "Garrett..."

"Where are they now?"

"In the guest hall." _Large, open, multiple doors, good choice_...

"Son, please, I don't like-"

"Fenn, Orana, escort my mother to her chambers."

Leandra blinked, a look of fear on her face. "Son, I don't want you to get involved with her again, please-"

_We're not discussing this, I'll deal with it_. Garrett shot his mother a hard look, silencing her. "_Now_, if you please."

Instantly, the two elves were moving to his mother's side, the woman by now frightened enough to meekly go with them, her neck turning to look at Garrett, afraid for him, for what might happen. _She's not the powerful one of us this time, mother, it'll be fine...but you should not be around when this goes down_. "Bastile...?"

The Orlesian met Garrett's gaze and offered a single nod. _Good, you've prepared things if they're needed_. "You wish to speak with her alone, Serah?"

"Yes, please." _At first, anyway_. Garrett looked down to the so far silent Maric, his shadow. "That doesn't include you, by the way." The dog gave loose a low growl of agreement.

With that, Garrett brushed past Bastile with long strides, his dark eyes barely acknowledging the odd servant brushing past, nor the grim-looking guards appearing more and more frequently as he passed his great hall and moved towards the guest-quarters.

_She __dares__ show her face here_? _Dares__ 'suggest' to Bastile that throwing her out would be a bad idea_? _Dares__ think I'd want anything to do with her_?

_She'll learn otherwise_.

All too soon he was facing the door to the guest-quarters, behind which would be the hall. _A red door, how fitting_. Garrett took a deep breath, his anger over the intrusion of a past best left behind focused into a heated blade...and entered.

The room was simple, a large square chamber of white and blue mosaics, two closed doors on each side, leading to various rooms such as baths, bedrooms and a variety of lounges. There were other entrances to those rooms, but none a guest would know of. The hall itself had no furniture save a round fountain dominating its centre.

Two men in patched and dirty leathers were standing on either side of the fountain, arms crossed over their chests, knives in their belts...and dirty faces displaying a mix of grimness as well as exhaustion. Tough men, but at the edge of endurance.

Athenril looked better, if only marginally, the woman sitting on the fountain's rim, one hand lazily drawing patterns in the water. Her leather armour was gashed along her left arm, but there was no blood to be seen, nor was she all that dusty, a glistening of her blond hair and pointed ears showing she'd washed it and her face in the fountain. There was no hiding the tiny gash across her left cheek though, nor the bags under her eyes, as she turned what Garrett supposed was meant to be a charming smile his way. "Well if it isn't my old brother in arms, Hawke...and look at you, all snazzy and proper. Been turned into a proper lord-ling, have you?"

"Don't call me brother." Garrett snapped, crossing his arms over his chest as Maric sat down next to him "What do you want?" At his feet, Maric let loose a growl so low it was barely audible...and one of the men with Athenril took a step back.

Athenril ignored the dog, let loose a tsk, and shook her head as she with familiar smoothness rose to her feet, the rogue as skilled as when he'd left her and the Footpads. "Oh come now, we left on...well not good terms, but fairly okay ones, did we not? And what's that, but water under the bridge? We're still old companions, no?"

Garrett arched an eyebrow, unimpressed. "And old companions help one another, no?" The rhetoric question was spoken so dryly that Athenril took a step back before Garrett spoke again, gaze darting between the two men by the fountain. "So is this what's left of the Footpads? I'm guessing you kept taking on the Coterie?" _Not much of a guess, with me talking to Varric and all_. "I told you that was unwise."

"Yes, and you were right, as always...feel better?" For a moment, Athenril's smile faltered, the tired woman behind showing...then she was grinning once more. "We can't all be as smart as you, you know, but you're ready to help out for old times' sake, right?"

Garrett shook his head. _You got to be joking_... "For old times sake, I ought to send you to Aveline, you know, the Captain of the guard." He scowled at the three before him as they stiffened at the name._ Could raise questions though_... "However, since I'm feeling generous, I'm going to tell you to leave instead. Crawl into Dark-town, the Coterie might not find you there."

Now it was Athenril's time to scowl, a dark look of anger that Garrett recognised. _You're about to do something foolish, aren't you_? "You think you can just brush me off like that, Hawke? I _know_ things, things about _you_...your _family_..." She smirked, a cool and calculating look. "You think I wouldn't talk? Wouldn't go to Meredith and whoever else might listen?"

The thought made a jolt of fear shoot through Garrett spine. Yet it passed quickly and didn't register on his face as he after a mere moment of thought scoffed at the woman. "You go then, tell Meredith of how you helped smuggle in a rogue mage and how you used her abilities. If she doesn't gut you right there, she might let you tell her about me...and I'll deny all accusations. She has no proof, and can't simply execute me without that..._you_, however..." He shrugged, smile as cool and calculating as Athenril's, even as the elf's wavered. "But you could always tell the other nobles. I'm sure the testament of one criminal _elf_ from Low-town will weigh heavily against a well-respected _noble_ of High-town...if there wasn't such accusations thrown around every other week, that is." Athenril's smile was completely gone as Garrett shook his head. "You have nothing to barter with, no leverage, _leave_."

Next to Garrett, Maric rose to his feet, teeth bared in a silent snarl.

For a moment, Athenril looked like a cornered animal. Then she eyed Garrett with narrowed eyes, seemingly calculating the distance between them...and coming up short as her gaze darted to the now growling Maric. _Yes, bad idea_. "If you stay for much longer, I _will_ get the guard."

Athenril didn't leave though, she took a bold step forward, refusing to heed Maric's warning growl as the Mabari tensed, ready to leap. The elf, pointing an accusing finger at Garrett, eyes narrowed but irises large as she struggled to contain her fear with anger, spat out her threat. "You think you're so high and mighty?! Untouchable Hawke, the big lord!? You forget, I know who you are, everyone does, and I know who your _friends_ are!" Garrett stiffened, making Athenril grin. "Oh yes, didn't think about that, did you? Didn't think I could come prepared? Well you throw me on the street and see what happens...see how clever that dwarf buddy of yours will look face down in the harbour. See how good your mage is at healing people without hands, how good that pirate will look without those shapely legs of hers and that handsome white-haired elf might not look so handome in a day or so...and how will that Dalish bitch handle being without ears?"

"BASTILE!"

Garrett's bark made every door in the chamber slam open, over two dozen of Garrett's guards pouring in, Bastile appearing right behind his lord, the blade hidden in his cane drawn and ready, mouth a bitter line. "Orders, Serah?" Around the three suddenly wide-eyed rogues, Orlesians and Fereldians alike levelled spears, swords and halberds at them, a ring of steel points surrounding the three thieves.

Athenril's smile was a faltering, trembling thing. "Y-you're really going to throw me out...? You're killing me that way, you know? And I...I..." She glanced at the nearest halberd, the spike long enough to rival a short-sword's blade...and swallowed. "Please...?"

_Please_? Garrett felt a fist of ice squeezing his heart, his entire being becoming cold as frozen steel. "Who said anything about throwing you out...?" The words hung there...and then Athenril's eyes widened in understanding. "You shouldn't have threatened my friends." Garrett held Athenril's gaze as he spoke. "Guards..."

A blur of moment...and the two thugs at Athenril's side launched themselves at her back, suddenly drawn daggers thumping into her back. One of the men pulled an arm over her throat, choking away her gasp of pain even as his dagger exited and entered her back once more, the other ripped his blade and moving it around the stiff elf before slamming the blade deep into her chest.

Two seconds later, the elf was lying on her side in a pool of her own blood, dead eyes staring at nothing as her lips moved on their own accord, making only blood pour out from between them.

Garrett looked down at the elf in surprise...then a clatter of steel drew his attention, making him watch the two thugs slip to their knees and throw their daggers aside, hands held high in the air. "Se-Serah...m'lo-lord...I...w-we s-surrender...?" The leftmost man muttered, head held low in submission, his body visibly shaking.

The other man whimpered, silent, a dark patch in front of his trousers appearing as one of Garrett's guards inched closer, spear grazing the back of his neck.

Garrett stared at them, still too surprised by the turn of events to react. _Athenril's dead_... Garrett looked to the elf, her lips now still, the blood pumping out of her wounds going still as her body finally caught up to the fact that it was dead. _The elf_..._no_, _woman_ _who_..._used_ _me_ _and_..

_Good_.

Finally, Garrett turned to look at the two thugs. "Look at me." The leftmost raised his head instantly, eyes wide with fear, making him look more like a cow than a human. "You too, look at me." The other man hesitated, looking down at the mark of shame on his trousers. "_Look_ at me." Finally, the man relented, teary eyes hesitantly meeting Garrett's stern ones. "Neither of you will _ever_ join a gang again. You will either get a _real_ job, or you will leave my city, understood?" The two mumbled acceptance...and Garrett sharpened his tone. "_Understood_?"

"Yes!" Both whimpered in unison, looking back down again.

"If you disobey this command, I'll find out..." Garrett let the words hang there...then shook his head. _This is a waste of time_. "Bastile, have your men escort these two out a discreet exit, _with_ their boss, if you please." The two men looked up at him with rekindled hope. "Dump the body in one of the usual spots, and then do as I told you, never telling anyone about this...because if you do, I'll _find_ you..." The pair, terrified, visibly shivered at the words. _Excellent_. "And for the rest of your lives, and if you _ever_ happen on a situation involving me again, I want you to remember my generosity and the debt you owe me..." _Varric would be proud, here's me, making friends_. The thought triggered a sardonic smile, making the two men exchange a puzzled look. "Now, time for you two to leave, and remember what I've said..." 

The two men nodded in unison as they slowly slid to their feet, trembling as guards moved closer, then as they were instructed, to pull up the corpse of their former boss.

As they left, Bastile inched closer, face marked by a scowl. "Was that wise, Serah?"

"Time will tell, but I'm done having others suffer because of that woman, I'm not about to soil my honour and name by killing those two."_ If there had been no witnesses, I might have considered another option_... "Let them run, they're of no consequence." Turning, Garrett sighed as he began to leave. "And send for Orana...she's good with cleaning up blood."

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"Beautiful night, isn't it?" Looking up at the stars, Garrett almost smiled, surprised by a feeling of wistfulness. _There's Elgar'nan and his horns_..._funny how the Dalish see figures humans didn't, guess you only see what you want to see_. There was no Merrill to discuss that thought with though, nor any of his usual group of misfits save Aveline and Maric.

It made the point between Garrett's shoulder-blades itch. _If only I could bring one mage, at least, would make this easier_..._and the wait more enjoyable_. But Garrett couldn't bring mages to this kind of fight, and it was important that he used his own entourage in this mission, to act as an example to the other nobles and the citizens back in Kirkwall.

Aveline was to his left, but so was Donnic, and both were looking grim and ready, not really ones to chat, even if nothing was happening. "I hope they come tonight, we've been stuck here for two days already."

"A week, Serah." Donnic corrected, his voice low to not carry over the dark night and the nearby water. "Those of us that have been here from the start, I mean, Serah."

"Of course, my apologies, didn't mean to make light of your own wait, or that of the guard." Garrett automatically replied, not about to start an argument with a man who he already had difficulties working with. _Not compatible, I guess_..._but at least Aveline loves him_. He turned to the woman, smiling slightly. "Think they'll come tonight?"

The captain's gaze was glued straight ahead, though with the darkness before her and the burning fires below ruining her night-vision, Garrett doubted she saw much beyond the camp ahead. "They have to soon enough, they can't have any food left." The woman gripped her sword tighter, eyes narrowing.

Garrett turned his head, looking over the by now familiar situation with little interest. They were at the Wounded Coast, the waves on both their left and right lapping at broken cliffs. Ahead, the little peninsula stretched out, the higher cliffs at the end forming a natural fortress, as the cliffs at the end formed a keep, there was a ridge running across the peninsula too, creating a sort of wall for the fortress. By now it had been under siege for a week by the guard and now also by Garrett and many of his warriors.

There was also two ridges further back though, the foremost which besiegers had used as cover while starving out the raiders ahead, the valley between the two turning into a makeshift camp.

It actually hadn't been easy convincing the Council to send out him and his warriors to aid the guard, the idea of a noble going out to fight practically caught criminals somewhat unnerving to them. If he started doing that with his entourage, would he later demand the same of them? It was one thing to send men to hunt down bandits, another to _personally_ lead troops against desperate and cornered criminals. _They're rightfully worried, nobility is not just about taking the profits others make, we're nobles, not parasites_. Garrett's motivation to aid the guard wasn't simply as a matter of principle though.

_The guard are stretched as it is, they need the assistance with combat-related tasks like this_. _And if I'm seen aiding them, being a force that polices and puts down the law in the city, I'll be seen as the de facto ruler of the city_, _more will turn to me for matters of the state_. _Maybe the Viscount knows that, he did look concerned about my offer to assist the guards_..._yet I'm not surprised he held his tongue, he needs me too much to resist_. _Now, if we can only put down these raiders, we can bring them back in chains and with the heads of the dead on pikes_..._people will love it, and see me with a by now successfully operating guard...their conclusion will be a foregone conclusion_. The thought made Garrett smile.

_Garrett Hawke, once not even owning his own farmland in Ferelden, now Viscount of a city_..._Varric will have a tale to tell_.

"Think they'll actually take the bait?" Donnic asked, sounding doubtful.

Garrett frowned. "Who knows? We've done all we could to make it believable. Even if they don't, they have to come out soon, the cliffs here make swimming impossible, and we're at the only exit." He shrugged. "It's only a matter of how great our victory will be now."

They had moved the camp back three days ago, behind the second ridge...or rather, where everyone slept. The fires and tents were still down in the slope between the two ridges, a few scarecrows of straw and dressed in armour put up on the first ridge to resemble a lazily placed small number of sentries...just the thing a raider would think possible to overcome, and even more so if driven by desperation. "You sound very confident?" Donnic pointedly replied.

"Why shouldn't I be? Fifty guardsmen and fifty of my own troops, we'll crush them." Garrett smiled grimly. "They should have taken your offer when they had the chance, Aveline."

"That's bandits for you, a stupid lot." The Captain replied, glancing at Garrett. "By the way, why _are_ you here? Not that I don't appreciate the help, but I can't help but think you're not doing this out of the kindness of your heart."

_Blunt as always, eh_? Garrett arched an eyebrow at Aveline, who unapologetically looked straight back at him. "Not to be insulting..." Donnic added, hesitating. "...but there's some saying you're doing this for political reasons?"

"Of course I am." Garrett replied, as unapologetic as Aveline, his gaze turning back to the darkness ahead as he felt the couple look at him with a mixture of displeasure and curiosity. "It can't have escaped you two that I'm making myself play a bigger and bigger role in the rule of Kirkwall. I do that because the Viscount and the other nobles don't have any real vision for the city and seem content to let it fall into disrepair and disrepute. I won't have that. I want a safe city for those I care for, a strong city, an _orderly_ city...my city is currently none of that."

"_My_ city?" Donnic echoed, a scowl on his face.

"Well yes, just like it's yours or anyone else's...but also more and more because it _is_ my city...how much do you think the Viscount _really_ rules? Half the administration is run by clerks that just keep doing the same repetitive task, without any direction or goal, the other half is run by _me_." Garrett shook his head. "Of course, we also have Meredith trying to meddle in things not her business as well...and people wonder why the city is in such chaos."

"You...intend to replace the Viscount?" Aveline murmured, the woman sounding baffled at the idea of such ambition.

"In time, yes." Garrett smiled, it felt good to admit it. "I'm already running much behind the scenes, but the title itself would be a good tool to fully rule the city and would make everything far less complicated and difficult. Right now I have to jump through hoops with many a decision, if I had _supreme_ power though...you'd see some changes, I promise you that."

Donnic slowly turned to face Garrett...and the noble blinked as in the corner of his eye he saw the guardsman put a hand on the grip of his sword, his voice cold. "I'm sworn to defence of the Viscount."

Garrett blinked, the words slipping out before he could help himself. "Don't be an idiot." Aveline and Donnic both tensed, making him turn to look at them fully and offer a reassuring smile. "I'm not yet thirty, the Viscount is over sixty and an ailing man without heirs..." He shook his head to enforce his words. "...I have _no_ reason to harm him, I can just wait for my turn." Donnic frowned, but released his sword...and then grimaced as Garrett continued. "And you're sworn to the _office_ of the Viscount...so when I'm Viscount, you're sworn to me...I hope you'll remember that."

Donnic visibly bristled...and then Aveline put a hand on his breastplate, instantly making him step back. "I suppose, _if_ that happens, that you're right, Garrett. But that's for the future, could we please focus on the present? One of your...friends...is coming."

Turning, Garrett spotted the little elf running towards him along the ridge, the young boy's head held low. The boys had passed a few days ago, curious about the siege...and Garrett had instantly seen the usefulness of a few elven eyes, knowing them to see better in the dark than any human. The nine year old approaching was all bones and rags, his mousy hair covered in dirt and one of his pointed ears cut off halfway to the tip. A dribble of snot was hanging from his large nose, but the boy ignored it as he ducked down to a now crouching Garrett, his wide eyes staring at the ground. "S-serah? M'lord...?"

"Yes, Levy?" Garrett asked, keeping his tone as soft as possible, well aware of how skittish the boy and his two friends were around Garrett and any of the guardsmen. _Yet not around my own men, guess they know those kind of warriors are less likely to hurt them_. _Nobles can be cruel and guardsmen don't like pickpockets, and these boys look like the type_. "You've seen something?"

"Th-there's movement around the finger..." The boy pointed at the keep of rocks at the end of the peninsula. "Jett wasn't sure at first, but now we saw them near that ridge...shadows creeping over it. They're getting c-closer."

"They come, good." Aveline growled, making the boy's eyes widen and him to take a step back as the Captain strode past him, sharp gestures making weary men and women kick themselves and others out of their sleeping bags and begin to strap on armour as quietly and quick as possible.

Garrett remained crouched though, offering a reassuring smile. "You and your friends have done well." The boy's eyes glinted with a mixture of worry and hope, shirking back, as if expecting to be struck at any moment. Hope overcame all other looks though once Garrett reached for his belt though. "As promised...a silver each." He held up the three coins to the wide eyes of the boy. "Make sure the others get theirs."

"Of course, we elves stick together." The boy snatched up the coins, as if fearing they'd disappear otherwise...then his eyes somehow turned larger as he realised what he said. "Um...I mean, yes, Serah, of course, Serah, didn't mean to...I mean..."

"It's fine, I get it, trust me." Garrett rose to his feet and took a step away from the boy before drawing his sword, head turning to face the coming conflict even as his free hand moved to put on his silvery helmet. "Now you better leave, a stray arrow can kill a boy as easily as a man."

Nodding, the little elf began to run, though Garrett barely noticed as he fastened his helmet and moved to grip his shield._ Here we go, once more into battle_..._once I'm Viscount and have cleaned the city up, these occasions will become few and far between_. To his left and right, men and women of the guard and his own household troops alike silently moved up to form a rough line along their ridge, looking down at their 'camp'.

"Keep quiet." Garrett hissed the words before any whispers could ensue. "We attack on _my_ command." Aveline, appearing next to him, shot him an irritated look, but said nothing...she knew as well as him that she had no authority over his own warriors, while he at least had some say in what the guard did. _Good, this way this will truly be __my__ victory_..._I don't really care, but others will_.

They didn't have to wait for long. Soon, even human eyes could pick up dark shapes creeping up the first ridge...each warrior waiting with baited breath as they saw their prey approaching._ Did they see through our ruse_?_ Will they try to put up some sort of defensive_-

A crash answered and silenced Garrett's thoughts, everyone watching as the armoured straw men fell down towards the camp, arrows lodged in their 'bodies'. A moment later, a roar rose from the bandits as they rushed up to the top of the ridge. Some came to a stop there, half a dozen archers being illuminated by a single man in robes as he created a sphere of fire between his cupped hands. Fell Orden, I presume? The rest rushed on, weapons raised and cries escaping their lips, cries nearly lost in the boom of the fireball striking down on the camp ahead of their charge, setting several of the tents aflame.

Moments later, the bandits were among the tents, hacking and slashing at them...and slowing down, confused.

"CHARGE!" Barely had the words left Garrett's mouth, and the guardsmen and warriors were rushing down, weapons levelled at the wide-eyed bandits who after staring into the fire probably barely saw the onrushing onslaught above.

Up at the other side of the camp, Fell Orden's face lit up in rage even as yet another fireball began to grow in his hands...only to flicker out, a dozen arrows lodged in the mage's chest as the archers on Garrett's side let loose at the illuminated target. Garrett could only imagine the surprised look on the mage's face as he slumped down, two of the archers next to him also falling to the volley of arrows.

One bandit, braver than the others, rushed forward to meet Garrett's charge, a great two-handed axe swinging horizontally at the noble.

Garrett was faster than the warrior had anticipated though, and the only thing striking Garrett's side was the haft of the axe as the noble stepped within the bandit's swing. In retort, Garrett pinned the weapon against his chest with his shield-arm, pressed his blade against the bandit's exposed neck and twisted sideways.

A spray of blood, the axe landing on the ground behind Garrett...and the raider was down, clutching at his spurting artery as all around him, his friends began to meet similar fates.

A bandit tried to stumble away from one of Garrett's men approaching fast with a lowered halberd, his sword shook with terror...and then fell out of limp hands as he was skewered on the oncoming halberd.

Another bandit slashed at Aveline with an axe, only to have the blow deflected by her shield as the captain loudly pushed her blade through the man's midsection and fell atop him from the impetuousness of the charge. Another raider tried to hack at the Captain's head as she struggled to rise, but found his hand and weapon tumbling to the ground as Donnic with a growl cut through the bandit's wrist.

One bandit, tripping up one of Garrett's Fereldians, pounced upon the warrior with a raised dagger...and then found herself bowled over by a pair of guardsmen, the two beating her into submission with their shields and stomping boots.

Atop the ridge, another bandit fell, the three remaining crying out in terror and trying to flee...and then a blur spurted after them, the so far silent Maric moving to stop them. Beyond the ridge, cries of pain and terror rose as the Mabari caught up.

Turning his head, sword ready, Garrett looked for another target...and found none.

A dozen or so raiders lay dead, nearly as many were either on their knees or laying down, wounded or surrendered, the guards and warriors around them grinning with glee as they tied up their captives. _Fast and painless on our side, excellent, now, to finish it_..._Varric would probably say I should_...

Garrett raised his blade, his shout loud. "For Kirkwall! Victory!"

As one, the warriors and guardsmen cried out their victory, weapons raised in the air, eyes on him.

Under his helmet, Garrett found a smile creeping to his face._ I could get used to this_...

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_Thanks goes to Abydos Jackson for her h-he-help._


	55. Chapter 55

"It's more than silence, more than stillness, it's a _void_."

Samson looked a little better since Garrett had employed the man. His hands shook every so often, and there were red rings under his eyes that never seemed to want to go away, but the ex-Templar no longer begged for lyrium every chance he got, and he now ate and drank like a normal person would, if somewhat little for a man of his stature.

He was still something of a skeleton, but one that didn't look ready to fall over in the face of a stiff breeze any more. The respectable clothes Garrett had gifted the man almost made him look like someone in an important position, which Garrett would argue the man was. He still looked like an addict though, and as such he stayed mostly in the estates where the people knew him and were friendly enough not to deride him. _Doubt he'll ever fully recover, ah well, at least he's alive, and helping me_.

They were in one of the more esoteric rooms of the estate, a relatively small round chamber with a high roof supported by slim pillars of white marble. Before, the walls had been decorated by various 'erotic' art that the previous owners had put up. Garrett had had that burnt – he couldn't well sell it with the consequences that might bear, nor did he want to keep it – and had let Samson put what he wished in it. The crimson red banners the man had picked were as far from Lyrium blue you could get, yet at the same time something about them screamed 'Templar'...Garrett hadn't dared ask the man for his reasoning for the choice of decoration. Instead he sat on the red cushions covering the floor along the walls, legs crossed, and took a deep breath. "I'm not sure I understand."

Samson smiled, the man was becoming a more and more patient teacher the more he was allowed to recuperate. _Maybe I should try and have him and Gamlen talk_? _Gamlen could use a friend with a similar addiction problem, but who's controlling his_... "Think of a deep sleep, for us non-mages, we don't actually feel ourselves being in the Fade, nor anywhere else. It's darkness, _death_..." He chuckled at Garrett's grimace. "Death is not a _bad_ state, it's not a _good_ one either, it's nothing. Remember that, _nothing_."

Garrett frowned. "I...understand what you're getting at, but peace and neutrality of mind is one thing, you're asking me to feel something you _can't_ feel." Samson shifted where he sat, a tendon loudly cracking. _Ah, we've been sitting here for longer than planned again_? Samson was still too afraid of being thrown on the street to say anything, yet the crack was a clear sign, Garrett couldn't help himself though. _This is such a fascinating subject_._ It's __like__ magic, yet the opposite, I_..._one can almost understand the mages, Bethany and Merrill and maybe even __Anders__, with this_... "How can I even _try_ it then?"

"It's not about _reaching_ the state...you _can't_ reach it, then you'd actually _be_ dead some templars postulate." Samson replied, shrugging. "But think of an artist, ever striving to perfect their art...they don't reach it, but they get close...and in so doing, touch the face of the Maker, a glimpse of perfection." Garrett blinked, having forgotten that ever since Samson had been pulled out of the gutter, he'd had gotten a taste for the poetic. "A glimpse, a touch, is all you need, no mortal can withstand that."

"Except, perhaps, the perfect _mage_?" Garrett found himself asking the hypothetical question, curious what an ex-Templar would say to it.

The man's face turned sad, however. "It takes time to become perfect like that, to become powerful like that, the order would not allow such a threat..." He turned his face, a shudder running through him. "...and they're there during teaching, and guard over the mages as they sleep..."

Garrett swallowed, there was no need for elaboration._ Harsh but necessary if one views the mages as the threat of all threats_..._but_ _if everyone knew_... He shook aside the thought_. They wouldn't care, none but those who are family of the odd mage would care, that is the true blight plaguing us_. _None care what the templars do to the mages, not as long as it's not their problem_..._in the same vein, none care when a mage goes mad and kills a lot of people, as long as it's not those they care about_._ The system breaks when there's no one maintaining it_..._when there's no debate, only doctrine_. "I see..anyway, about that void...?"

"Yes." Samson looked relieved to the change of topic. "Imagine a point, a black point far in the distance, look at it in your mind, really _look_ at it, make it-"

At the far end of the room, the door swung open, making Garrett and Samson both look over to it in annoyance. Bastile shot Samson a look that could curdle butter – the Chevalier didn't much care for addicts, no matter how much one explained to him about Samson's specific condition – but swiftly turned his gaze to Garrett with an apologetic bow of his head. "Pardon, serah, but you have visitors."

_Last visitor were Athenril and her gang_. Garrett smoothly rose to his feet, making Samson fail to hide a look of relief as the ex-Templar struggled to rise on stiff legs. _This better not be a repetition of that_. "Who is it?"

"Bastile shot a glance back, his frown telling someone out of sight to wait, then he looked back to Garrett. "Well both seem urgent, but I thought you'd need to know about the first one first...Comte de Launcet is here to see lady Hawke." Garrett grit his teeth as the ex-Chevalier arched an eyebrow. "I asked him to wait at the gate as I checked for her whereabouts..."

_Thank you_. "This is his _tenth_ visit in one month, and without his wife or son...fool or not, it would look better if the boy came along...that's..._no_, it's bad enough that people are already talking about one Hawke and his..." _And his what_?_ His elf_? Garrett bit back a curse, then shook his head. "She's out, yes, tell him she's out riding in my new farmlands, wanting to take in the view and aid me in organising the new Fereldian hires." _Maker, that turned expensive, I need to cut investments for a while and wait until the investments pay off before making any new ones_. _Damn Darkspawn bred quickly too, ruining the chance for more expeditions into the Deep Roads_..._ah well, as long as nothing major happens, it should be okay_.

"Should I go to her quarters and tell lady Hawke this as well...?" Bastile asked, a hint of humour in his usually grizzled face.

Garrett grimaced. _One battle at a time_. "No, I'm sure she'll find out later but be wise enough to play along, and then when she gets home...well just send her to me."

"I doubt I could stop her." Bastile dryly retorted, unfazed by the glare Garrett shot him at the words as he continued. "Now, for the second visitor, I believe lady Merrill wishes to..." The elf shot past Bastile, despite him filling the doorway, like a ferret, her eyes wide and disquieted, her lips trembling. "...speak to you."

Garrett, taking one look at the elf as she slid to an uncertain stop, moved closer, head bowed to look down at her, offering a gentle and reassuring smile. "Hey...what's going on? You look upset."

"I...it's...it's..." Merrill hesitated, big eyes suddenly looking at Garrett with hesitation, her body twisting slightly away from him, as if suddenly wishing to run. Garrett took a step closer, eyes soft and eyebrows arched, coaxing more out of her. "...the mirror, you know, that I brought home and..."

Garrett's eyes hardened, making Merrill flinch back, yet he was already looking elsewhere, glancing at Samson and Bastile, his command sharp. "Leave us." A shake of his head as Bastile arched an eyebrow and Samson two, and he found himself adding. "Please"

Without a word, Samson hurried for the door, Bastile lingered near it though, giving Garrett and Merrill a worried look...and then pointedly closed the door.

Now alone with the woman, Garrett turned his gaze back to her, the sight of her fretting making his gaze soften, but only _slightly_. "What _about_ the mirror?" He shook his head. "Tell me everything."

"Well, as you know, I've tried putting it back together, to fix it..." Merrill hesitated, clearly expecting Garrett to protest as he usually did. This time, however, he held his tongue, intent to hear what she had to say. _Maker, I swear, she's her own worst enemy_..._how do you protect someone from themselves_? _How can someone so bright be so_..._dumb in one particular case_? Garrett didn't like the answer to either of those questions. "...but it won't work."

_Well_ _that's_..._good_. Garrett kept scowling though, expecting more to come.

Merrill didn't disappoint. "I need help." Garrett clenched his teeth shut and took a deep breath as the elf before him fretted, shaking her head at the floor. "I need...something, I think I know what...erm...Dhavine told me what was needed and I know what's capable of just that."

_What a coincidence, Dhavine is willing to help you, and you know just the thing she's suggesting is needed to mend the thing she's trapped in, such luck_...

Merrill looked at him, eyes wide, expecting him to yell, perhaps...yet Garrett held his tongue, letting her speak. "I need an ancient tool of my people, an Arulin'Holm, my own clan has one, but...well, the Keeper won't give me it willingly." _How_ _surprising_. "I can invoke Vir'Suhle'Vahnan. The way of the Dalish is that all are allowed access to all things, even the protected. But then the Keeper is allowed to set a task for me...and I know her, she will set one that's scary, one I might not dare do...so if you could...help me...?" She offered a hopeful look that could have melted ice.

Garrett wasn't one to melt, however, and found his scowl deepening. "Are you done?"

"Errr...yes?" Merrill hesitated, looking like she suddenly wished to leave the room.

"Good, I've listened to you, now you're going to listen to _me_." Garrett growled. Merrill's eyes widened in fear, but unsurprisingly, she didn't take a step back. _Maker, hate her stubbornness, hidden behind false meekness_. "This is a _very_ dangerous path you're taking, and as you know, _not_ one I approve of." He sighed. "You are very smart, Merrill, but I believe your vision is clouded here."

To his surprise, Merrill managed to keep herself from speaking, her eyes just looking sadly back at him.

"And by who but Dhavine? Isn't it curious that she's wishing to help you so much? This _demon_, locked in a _prison_...wants you to fix it?" Garrett saw Merrill open her mouth to speak, and continued before she could. "And yes, I know, she's been very 'honest' with you, she wants to be free and all creatures do...but have you ever considered _why_ she was locked up in the first place?" Merrill hesitated. "Thought not." Garrett shook his head. "She's tried to trick us once-"

"To be fair, she wasn't-"

"Let me finish." Garrett snapped, silencing Merrill. "Then she tried to kill us-"

Merrill took a step closer, eyes bright, refusing to be silenced for more than a moment. "Hey! That was _only_ in self-def-"

"So _she_ tells it! What did you think she read that tome for? For _fun_?" Garrett snapped, watching Merrill groan and pull back, the elf looking as frustrated as he felt. "And you're willing to trust _her_ word? Hers over mine? Over Anders? Over everyone in your clan? Over everyone you _know_? Why? Why should you trust her? She's using you to get what she wants, and when she's done-"

"Don't you think that I'm using her!?" Merrill snapped, shaking her head at him. "I'm not some innocent child that Isabela, Varric and Aveline seem to think! I know _exactly_ what I'm doing! I take _precautions_! Dhavine is _not_ controlling me! _Nor_ will she turn on me! I _know_ it!"

"Know or _desire_?" Garrett snapped back, making the elf cry out in frustration and step even further back, turning her back to him, then twirl back around to glare at him as he continued. "You've placed all your trust into this mirror, that it'll somehow magically aid your people and make them all happy and safe again...but they don't even _want_ that mirror, ...even if you fix it, they _won't_ use it! And they _shouldn't_! Who _knows_ what's inside that thing but that demon!?" Garrett found his shoulders slump as Merrill did nothing but glare back. "You want to help, I know, and you've put so much work into this, but...it won't help them, Merrill.."

Merrill blinked, and then smiled a sweet smile that Garrett recognised even before she spoke, her tone full of anger veiled by a thin layer of friendliness. "I'm sorry...did you just say you know better than me how to help _my_ people..?"

Garrett didn't hesitate, unwilling to allow the elf any respite or to derail the argument. "In _this_? _Yes_! You are _fixated_ on a thing that in no way is connected to your people any more! You yourself said these mirrors were lost! How will having _one_ of them help your people?! It would be like having a boat in the desert, you won't get anywhere with it!" He caught himself taking a step closer, some of the heat dying from his voice. "And now you want us to go and do some task for the Keeper, no doubt something dangerous...what if one of us dies doing that? Would you be okay with that...?"

That struck home, the elf taking a step back, arms around herself as she looked away. "No..." Then she looked back again, her hesitation forgotten. "...but that won't happen, not if we work together."

Garrett sighed, shoulders slumping as he looked away, ignoring the jab of guilt in his chest. "If this is what you want us to do...then no, I won't help you." He looked back to Merrill with sad eyes, watching her raise her chin in defiance. "I can't help you risk your life in getting something you shouldn't use..."

Merrill's chin remained raised, her body stiff like a blade. "Then I'll go alone."

Garrett went cold. "You...wouldn't do that?"

"It's riskier but..." Merrill shook her head, snorting. "...I feel that I must do this, alone if needed." She looked away. "After the clan and all...it's kind of what I expected anyway..."

"I...damn you, Merrill!" Garrett growled, making the elf look back at him in surprise. He took a step closer, then another, grimacing. "You're...I can't just...Maker, damn you." He reached out, hand grazing the elf's forehead, pushing back a rogue strand of hair before he remembered himself and lowered the arm. "I _won't_ let you risk yourself like that...I can't just do nothing..."

Merrill blinked, gaze darting to Garrett's hand, then up to his face, her throat moving as she swallowed. "So you'll...help me?"

"I don't like it but..." Garrett took a step back, fingers tingling as he took a shuddering breath, frustrated and...frightened. "...I'll help you, if only to keep you alive."

"The clan gave up on...but you..." Merrill blinked, a hand drifting to her hair...and then looked away. "Thank you."

Garrett just stared back, distress gripping his heart.

_Maker, you scare me_...

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"You're here to...help her?" Keeper Marethari's voice was full of surprise and confusion.

Garrett looked around, shoulders slumped in defeat.

On his right, Maric sat on his haunches, the Mabari seemingly scowling at the Keeper. On his left, Merrill stood straight as a blade, chin held high despite her Keeper's disapproval and the many glares the group, and her in particular, was receiving from the not so subtly armed Dalish around in camp. _You're going to be the death of me, woman_.

At his back, most of the gang stood, a mixture of supportive and hostile looks on their faces, aimed at the back of their Dalish companion. Anders had been convinced to come only by Garrett arguing that another mage might be required to be sure Merrill didn't try to pull something, Garrett trusted the elf with his life...but not with her own. Fenris had also been convinced to come, despite his vehement protest...it had cost Garrett a small fortune though, something he was still grumbling about._ Better safe than sorry_..._Maker, given how much I've paid him though, I wish he'd stop looking at Merrill as if he's about to kill her_.

Aveline hadn't been able to come, for which she had apologised for quite profusely, mostly to Merrill, much to Garrett's surprise. Varric had of course come, the man voicing his worries, worries Garrett shared, in private before cheerily supporting Merrill and keeping her spirits up as they moved towards the Dalish camp. Isabela had also come, the woman having _volunteered_ to help of all things...she had studiously avoided Garrett's questions about that, but the smile she'd offered the Dalish was enough of an answer.

_You have friends, you have those who care about you, none who wants to see you get hurt_..._stop this_... Garrett looked to Merrill, silently pleading for her, as he had for a hundred times already, but the elf looked to Marethari only, ignoring him, though with a lower lip trembling for a moment. "I guess we are, yes."

"Well?" Merrill's tone was determined and impatient, holding surprisingly little kindness in them as she demanded Marethari's attention. _So different from otherwise_..._I_ _don't_ _like_ _this_... "I've invoked Vir'Suhle'Vahnan for the Arulin'Holm, what say you?"

_Please say no, please say no, please say no_...

"I..." Marethari looked as if in actual pain, giving Garrett a pleading look, one he mirrored back...and then she turned back to Merrill. "...cannot deny you, it is your right, but it is my right to set the task you must complete, this you know, yes?"

_Damn_.

"Of course, say it, and it'll be done." Merrill snapped, her tense posture screaming impatience. _Like Gamlen when he's itching for a drink_..._Maker, how didn't I see this for how bad it was_...?

Marethari ignored Merrill's eagerness though, calm eyes looking back to Garrett. "You are not of the Dalish, you are not obligated to help her, nor to protect her, the path she's chosen is her own..."

Garrett grit his teeth, a jolt of anger shooting through him at the words. "I look after _my_ kin, even when – no, _especially_ when – they're foolish...it's called being a _friend_." _Maker, would I have said this only a few years ago_? _So much has changed_...

Marethari winced at the words, perhaps feeling guilt, perhaps reacting to his inclusion of Merrill as kin...but soon resumed her calm look. "You risk all for one, you know...the Dalish cannot afford such risks."

"I protect all _by_ protecting one, the small fits into the big, no person is alone." Garrett scowled, already tired from speaking to the Keeper. _Maker, do all Dalish but Merrill act like they know best and are superior all the time_? "I thought the Dalish would know this better than most."

Marethari's forehead crinkled into a hostile frown, a few of the nearby Dalish visibly tensing, like mad dogs, ready to pounce at the slightest provocation. Merrill defused the moment with a growl though, her impatience clear. "Keeper, you cannot deny me, then give me a task and I'll leave the clan alone." She grimaced, a look of real anger crossing her face. "Don't want to risk them being _infected_ by my thoughts, after all..."

All of the group, even Fenris, shot the elf a surprised look at that, but Merrill ignored them, her posture _screaming_ for an end to the talk and for them to go on with their task. Marethari, grief in her eyes, as if Merrill was some corpse she was looking at, shook her head. "Very well...you surely know of the great cave at the base of Sundermount? In there, a Varterral has its nest, we only recently found this out. While the clan can easily avoid the beast, it's still a risk...so I task you with putting an end to it."

Garrett, raking his brain for all the books he'd read on various animals and beasts, blinked. "What in Thedas is a Varterral?" He looked to his left. "Merrill?"

The elf had gone pale, her lips squeezed tightly as she glared at Marethari...who looked back, calm, an eyebrow arched, as if she'd suddenly won some game of wits.

In the silence, Varric could be heard clearing his throat. "Yeah, what's a Varterral...?"

The human and dwarf were ignored though, Merrill narrowing her eyes as she took a shuddering breath. "Very well, Keeper, it shall be done."

Marethari, mouth opened and closed in surprise, took a step back. "Are you...sure, Da'len? I...really?"

"I'm not your Da'len, I'm a grown woman and forge my own path." Merrill snapped, somehow managing to grow an inch as she turned even straighter, chin high. "And yes, I'm sure."

In the distance, at the corner of his eye, Garrett spotted a trio of elves running away, towards Sundermount, bows held tight and arrows in their quivers. _And what are you three up to_...? "So...Varterral? What is it?"

"Then Mythal go with you..." Marethari bowed low, pain in her eyes as she met Merrill's hostile gaze. "...you'll surely need it."

Squaring her shoulders, only Garrett noticing a slight quaver to them, Merrill nodded and began heading for Sundermount, strides wide, neither looking left or right at her glaring clansmen, nor back, at the group hesitantly following.

As Garrett hurried to follow, he found himself swallowing, a feeling of dread coming over him. _I have a bad feeling about this_...

"Seriously, what's a Varterral?"

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for defying biology for me._


	56. Chapter 56

Sweat was pouring down over his face, blurring his vision.

He blinked through it, his attention fixed on his foe, not about to allow respite or recovery.

He attacked, his foe blocked. He attacked again, his foe parried. Again, and his foe jumped over the slash.

Again and again Carver advanced though, constantly shifting to the left and right, his thrusts and slashes not as wild as they'd once been. Controlled, short, swift, conserving the energy needed for the greater blows to later as he instead again and again prodded his foe's defences.

His foe, hiding behind a by now battered heater shield, defended himself expertly, but Carver gave him no respite, forcing the man to constantly move the heavy defence and to strain his already wheezy breath.

_I'll beat him this time, I __will__, I __feel__ it_.

He cut at his foe's low left, forcing the shield low. Then the high right, forcing the shield to move up to deflect the blow and for his foe to take a step to the side. Circling, Carver thrust at his foe's lower right, making his foe twist uncomfortably to get the shield down in time.

_Now_!

Carver jumped back, feigned a high swing that would smash over his foe's shield, and once it was raised to deflect the blow, turned the swing into a low lunge.

Within an inch from his foe's wide eyes, the blunted sword was pushed aside by a swift shield. _NOW_! Carver, using the momentum given to his sword by his foe's parry, swung his blade over his head counter-clockwise, the blow lacking in finesse, but holding great speed and force as it parted air on its way to his foe's left shoulder.

A groan, and his foe was on one knee, shield loudly cracking as Carver's arms momentarily went numb as his sword bounced off the block his foe by all right shouldn't have managed. _No_!

His foe lunged, it was so sudden and unexpected given the battering the man had taken, that Carver nearly didn't react in time, the flat of a cold blade brushing his cheek as he pulled his head back. _NO_!

Rushing out from his kneeling position, his foe swung his shield, slamming aside Carver's blade as the man tried to recover it into a defensive guard, and then his foe's sword shot out again, from low to-

_Pain_!

Gasping, Carver staggered back, fire racing out from a spot between his ribs. Growling, he tried to regain his balance, to bring his sword back-

_Pain_!

The third lunge of his foe's blade was as quick as the first, and Carver's pain was as much in his gut as his pride as his sword fell from numb fingers and he dropped to his knees, clutching his stomach at the agony caused by the blunted blade.

In front of him, his foe tossed shield and sword aside and threw his arms out, grin wide with approval. "_Excellent_! Most _excellent_! I'm _amazed_! I'm _astonished_! I'm _bedazzled_!"

Carver arched an eyebrow, forcing himself to take ever deeper breaths as the pain began to fade, his knee quavering as he moved it up so he could at least save some dignity by staying on _one_ knee. _So_ _close_...

"Just a few months of training with me, and you've come _this_ far!?" The grey-haired Master shook his head, looking genuinely astonished and pleased. "What talent is in you, boy!" _Is he just messing with me now_...? "You had me on the ropes! _Me_! A Master since fifteen years back, nearly beaten by a man who's trained with the templars for what feels like a blink of an eye!"_Or maybe_..._he's not_? Carver managed a hesitant smile. "If not for the required years of service, I'd motion to make you a Master in the next six months if this keeps up...and you can only get better now." The veteran Templar's grin faded, but only to be replace by something akin to a proud smile. "I see great things ahead of you, serah Hawke."

Carver rose to his feet, smile hesitant, yet shoulders straight._ Serah Hawke, serah Carver Hawke_... "I'm glad you find me worthy despite my failure, Master Ermaz."

"It's not failure when in training, it's _learning_." The old Master replied with a wry look...one that exploded into a grin a second later. "Besides, that one was close..." Grimacing, the Master rubbed his shield-arm, looking down at the battered shield he'd been using, tone low. "Think I'll use a buckler next time, or I won't be able to keep up with you..." Carver's smile turned more genuine as the man threw his stomach a glance. "And stop recovering so quickly, you make me feel my age, boy."

"It's not age weakening you yet, Master, simply a young man fitter than most will ever be or _can_ be."

_That voice_! Carver, so stunned at hearing the voice he'd before only heard at mass, was several moments slower than Ermaz to turn to face the source and slip onto one knee, head bowed low in respect. Ermaz, though kneeling, spoke with the casualness of a familiarity that Carver could only wonder at. "Perhaps you are right, though I must confess that my knees creak like rusty hinges when I get out of bed by now."

A chuckle, polite, yet restrained. "If you're trying to ask for retirement, stop right there, I need you too much."

"Of course, serah, I live to serve...besides, I have to be present to watch this young man grow into greatness, it's a one in a lifetime opportunity!" His head still bowed, Carver felt his cheeks flush even as a smile stole its way back to his face.

"As always, too keen to hand out praise." Meredith's voice was colder this time, curt and short. "Please, leave us."

"Of course, Knight-Commander, excuse me." Carver listened with growing fright as Master Ermaz rose to his feet and moved for the door, steps slow but steady. _What does __she__ want with __me_? _Is this about Garrett_? _Eugh, I hope not_. _Or_..._not_ _Merrill_...? Fear gripped Carver at the thought._ I won't let you be hurt, even I know what they'd do to a mage that has been loose for so long_...

_I should let her go, or the thought of her, at least. But those eyes_..._they follow me in my dreams_... Internally, Carver groaned, he know what love unreachable did, it made one want it even more, he'd used it himself on girls back in the old days...and didn't much care for the karma now handed out to him. _Stop thinking about her, idiot, the Knight-Commander is here_!

With sickening finality, the door behind the Master clicked shut, leaving Carver alone with the much feared and respected Knight-Commander. When she spoke, it was with a certain gravity, making every word seem a dire portent. "Ermaz, as always, exaggerates too much...but in the same time, he's right. You _have_ proven yourself extremely skilled in the art of combat." _She's_..._noticed_ _me_? Carver swallowed, struggling to keep his head low. "Your templar skills are growing at an impressive rate and even your regular studies have seen a great improvement...it's impressive to see such devotion to the cause, or maybe it's your own ambition to be good at what you do, I don't rightly care. What's important is _what_ you are, _not_ why." _Erm_..._thank_ _you_? _Was that an insult or a compliment_? "And do get up, I don't want to spend our time talking to the back of your head."

Carver found his body obeying the command, despite his nervousness making him feel weak. When he looked up, he found the Knight-Commander a few feet away, stern brow furrowed at him. Carver shifted where he stood, he knew she wasn't giving him a disapproving stare, it was just the usual look on her face...yet to be under her scrutiny was...unpleasant. "Yes, Knight-Commander."

"Yes?" Meredith repeated, almost sounding..._amused_? "That's all you have to say? Your brother seemed more eloquent...guess it doesn't run in the family."

Carver found his eyes flashing, words spilling out of his mouth before he could stop himself, hands clenched tight at his sides. "What do you want me to say?" _Shut up, man, you'll get yourself whipped_. "I know who I am and what I've accomplished, I'm not about to explain either."

Meredith's smile was a thin line. "Good, you and I are of the same mind in this then." She turned away from him, hands behind her back as she paced a few steps away from him. "You are a skilled Templar, one still with a lot of untapped potential...must be that lauded Hawke blood." She shot a glance back, noting his sudden scowl with an arched eyebrow before turning away again. "Still, I do not wish to take this away from you, this _is_ your accomplishment, nothing else."

Grunting, Carver shifted where he stood, still not sure where the Knight-Commander was going with the conversation. "Thank you."

"Many outside the order would say it's not as good as your brother's..." Meredith turned around as Carver once more scowled. "...but I'd disagree."

Carver, feeling his face flush with anger as he clenched his fists tight, didn't reply. _Always the damn comparing, always me bloody ending up short, always_..._Maker, I'm in what sometimes feel like a separate world and __still__ his shadow hunts me_!

Meredith, seemingly oblivious to his anger, continued. "Sure, he is a noble, respected and rich..." _Oh yes, keep telling me how great he is_... "But one breeds the other, what's wealth but a roll of fortune to most? Nobility comes with wealth in Kirkwall, _as_ does respect..." Blinking, Carver looked to Meredith, finding her face looking like it was chiselled from marble, all stoic and unwavering. "What do _they_ out _there_ know of the accomplishments and strains of a templar?" She put a hand on Carver's shoulder, it was heavy, and the grip firm. As was her gaze. "Any achievement of yours is three times as great as a similar one done by someone on the outside."

Carver found himself swallowing, the word tumbling out of his mouth meek. "Why?"

"We are not challenged by the everyday hurdles of normal life. We face magic and demons every day, even when we do not know it." Meredith's face hardened. "Even now, some blood-mage is out there, trying to corrupt a templar or to free more of his hidden kin within the Circle. When others can relax and feel safe, we must train and meditate and remain vigilant. We are the _last_ wall of defence against the horrors that are on the other side of the Veil...do you know what those horrors are?"

"I've read-"

"Reading is not experiencing." Meredith snapped, though not unkindly, the harshness coming as naturally to her as breathing. "I've _seen_ it, _many_ times, in many guises. It could be the harmless librarian suddenly turning her books into raging infernos. It could be some merchant with a dark secret turning mad and slaughtering an entire village with his bare hands. It could be an innocent child, looking up at you in fear...and then exploding as a monster takes her place." Meredith didn't look away, didn't waver...but the grip on Carver's shoulder tightened for a moment at her own words. "And you think that's bad...that that's the worst part?"

"It's...not?" Carver caught himself swallowing.

"No..." Meredith shook her head. "The biggest threat to you is yourself, your doubts, your nature , your wish to always do the right thing." She let go of Carver's shoulder, taking a step back, her features even tighter than normal. "What harm could it do, to let the poor results of a mage not lead to him being turned tranquil? _Nothing_, often, then sometimes..._hundreds_ dead. Why not look the other way, when you sense a little child riding on his father's shoulders is growing into a mage? They look so happy..." Meredith's eyes flashed, cold ice behind them. "...and then the child, weeks later, feeds on his father's still beating heart, because _you_ didn't do anything." Carver, transfixed, felt a cold bead of sweat run down his spine. "Or that young little girl, not knowing what's happening to her, _afraid_, clutching at your leg, begging you to spare her...it wasn't _her_ fault she was born with too much power for a mortal body, after all."

Carver cleared his throat, he'd received many a speech from Garrett, but Meredith's was more...terrifying._ I'll have to face these things, I have to_..._Maker_. "I'll...try to do right."

"That's what I said as well." Meredith's smile was cold, yet sad. "But what _is_ right? I've seen hundreds burn because I failed to act. I've had to put down a child turned monster. I've had to watch a girl, screaming in terror to her _last breath_, warp into a demon because I failed to act." A deep breath, and then Meredith continued, merciless. "I've also seen a dozen poor mages avoid the clutches of demons. I've seen people in their late teens and even older come to the circle, parents unharmed. I've seen powerful children somehow, with all their might, wrest control over their minds and keep the demons at bay."

"So...?" Carver, now confused, dreaded the answer.

"You do what's _safe_." Meredith concluded. "_Maybe_ it won't happen, _maybe_ everything will be fine...but you do _not_ know, you _cannot_ know, so you act to what's _safest_." The words, like nails, struck into Carver. Merciless, Meredith continued. "And for the _rest of your life_, you will wonder...would he have done okay? Would she have survived? Would the world have been a better place _without_ you acting...?"

Carver took a step back, the level of responsibility implied in Meredith's words staggering. _Maker, I'm over my head_... "Does it...does it get easier? To bear, I mean?"

"Doubt is the gateway for desire." Meredith scowled back, then shook her head, scowl easing somewhat. "Yet we're only human, however much we must strive to be otherwise." She paused there, letting the words linger. "Do you now understand why our deeds carry so much weight, why the worthiness of our actions should be seen as greater than those outside the order?"

"I...yes." _I hope so_.

"Good, now onto the business at hand." Meredith put her hands behind her back, standing even straighter than normal, enough to make her seem equal to Carver in height. "First of all, I saw your brother at the latest party of the Reinharts..." _Eugh, not again_. Arching an eyebrow at Carver's grimace, the woman continued. "Seems he's been funding the city guard a lot." _Really_?_ I thought him too cheap for that_..._must have a reason_. "And I find that the city guard now disregard most if not _all_ my orders...pardon me for saying..." _You don't look sorry_. "...but I find that a curious coincidence."

Carver hesitated...but then shrugged, he wasn't about to lie on Garrett's behalf, but neither to damage him. _I'm better than that_. "My brother has never had much good to say about our order, Knight-Commander, but I doubt he'd try to act against it in this way, he has nothing to gain from it. My guess this is due to their Captain...Aveline can be a bit...prickly about feeling anyone encroaching on her territory."

"Magic concerns all, none should or _can_ be excused from duty against its dangers." Meredith shook her head, visibly annoyed. "Anyway, as you say then...though apparently he spent most of that party, as I've heard told, in the company of a young _elven_ woman..." Carver blinked. _He what_...!? _Him_? _Garrett_!? _With_ _a_ _woman_? _With_ _an_ _elven_ _woman_!? "Considering her markings, it's even said she's _Dalish_."

_A_..._wha_...?

Scrutinizing whatever look Carver's face bore, Meredith continued, voice level. "Yes, a Dalish, I know, hard to believe. Those heathens are dangerous beyond compare, elven communities are perhaps natural, but these people worship strange gods and allow magic to run rampant in their midst, even encouraging it. As far as the order is concerned, they're as bad as Tevinters, if not worse, since they respect no boundaries." She cocked her head to the side, eyes narrowed. "So I must ask...do you know of this woman? Would she perhaps be...influencing him? Magic or not, Dalish values and believes would be most dangerous and perhaps be driving his actions...?"

Carver, still thunderstruck, stood there, staring at the Knight-Commander.

Who frowned back, a hint of anger in her eyes. "Remember, I'm your Knight-Commander, you _must_ answer."

"I...forgive me, serah..." Carver struggled to find his voice, looking away as he swallowed, hands closing into impotent fists. _That son of a_..._I can't believe._.._after he strictly forbade me to even see her, he takes her on a_..._a_...

"Hawke?"

_MAKER DAMN HIM_! Carver slammed his fist into his thigh, fury gripping his heart as he stared into a wall, wanting it to crumple before him.

"Templar! Answer me!"

Meredith's growled order managed to bring some order to Carver's raging thoughts, like a lid upon a boiling pot. "I...sorry, I was taken by surprise." Carver spoke the words through gritted teeth. "I...know of the woman you speak of..." _I_..._she's_..._maybe it's all a mistake and_..._damn_ _him_, _he_..._no_..._she's too nice to be_... "...she's _not_ a mage, nor do I think she can influence him. My brother is very good at making his own path and to make decisions on his own, none tell him what to do...in fact the only thing I'd expect is for _him_ to influence _her_." _To the worse_. "She's unimportant."

"I...see." For a moment, there seemed to be a hint of softness in Meredith's eyes as she looked to him. Then it was gone in the blink of an eye, the woman all hard as steel again as she spoke. "Thank you for your honesty, Hawke, it seems Knight-Captain Cullen was right about you, your results and our conversation confirms as such." She glanced down, looking at Carver's clenched fist pressed into his thigh, then looked up. The smile she offered was pale and curt, but there none the less. "I believe I've made my decision, you'll make an excellent advisor on politics in the city, it's clear that I need one."

_Me_? _Advisor_? _I_..._me_?! Carver wasn't sure if to be terrified of such a duty, or proud. "I'm...honoured."

Mostly, his rage kept such thoughts back though. _He hates elves, he told me to not see her, to avoid her, that she was not to be pursued, that she was off-limits_._ He was downright __hostile__ to her_.

_And now, he takes her there, to a party, as his_..._companion_? _What, like some courtesan_? _His personal whore, like half the other nobles do_?_ Is he for real_? _The __nerve__, the __hypocrisy_...

Meredith's smile was cold, the woman nodding. "Good, I hope to take you under my wing, Hawke, to make you Knight-Captain in time, when you've proven yourself. Congratulations, you've earned it."

Carver nodded, numb on the inside, fuming on the outside, mind a buzz of confusion.

_How could he do this_...?

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson, for polishing that ego until it shines._


	57. Chapter 57

_Shit, shit shit_! 

Gasping, Garrett staggered back, shield-arm numb, the shield itself ringing from the impact as his longsword darted out, only to strike nothing but air.

All his training, all those hours with Bastile...felt pointless. There had never been any practice in how to fight monsters, especially something that was not only far larger, but was _faster_ than you. Its forearms and forelegs darted out with no sync or reason, seemingly random slashes from the arms and powerful thrusts from the legs as it drove the entire group backwards. Even the tail, shaped like a spear-tip at the end, lashed out at times from under or over it, the bladed tip dripping with gore from its previous killings.

The creature, giving voice to an unearthly shriek, kept advancing on the group, stabbing and slashing at them like mad, driving them further back with its whirlwind of attacks. Garrett, flinching back from yet another slash, found himself nearly shoulder to shoulder with Fenris as the group was forced into the narrow entrance of the cave.

_This isn't working_!

A pair of crossbow bolts harmlessly bounced off the Varterral's chitin, as did a bolt of lightning as Merrill's voice, cracked with tears, called out. "Emma shem'nan!"

The reason for her grief lay over at the other side of the cave, a few of their arrows were still lodged in the Varterral's tough hide, but didn't seem to slow it down in the least.

In contrast, one of the elves had been gutted, his intestines sprayed all over the wall he lay next to. Another had lost the entire right side of his head, the remaining side covered in gore from the crushing blow. The last one was still moving, though only weakly, vainly clutching at the stump that was his left leg, the pool of blood he lay in nearly black in contrast to his pale skin.

"Ar tu na'din!" Another cry from Merrill, and a dwarf-sized boulder shaped like a fist hurtled through the air. The swift Varterral easily dodged the missile with a hiss, its angry retort a thrust from one of its forelegs, making Fenris grunt as the elf struggled to bash the blow aside with his greatsword.

_It's forcing us back, and the further back we get, the more it can concentrate its attacks_. _We need to_... "Fenris, Isabela, charge past it!" The elf and Rivaini blinked, looking to Garrett like he was mad. "Maric, you too!"

With a loud bark, the dog, so far reduced to growling at the creature, leapt out past Garrett, the mass of fur and muscle didn't even bother to bite the Varterral as he got under it. Instead, Maric tackled one of its hind legs, making it stumble momentarily, tail lashing out towards the mabari...who dodged with a growl and moved back to hound the Varterral's left side.

"Ah." Fenris' understanding was punctuated by Isabela's cry as the woman rushed at the Varterral. Again, the creature's tail lashed out, stabbing at the woman between its legs and hitting nothing but air as she dropped onto her knees and arched her back, sliding under the creature's thrust with a dancer's grace, making her end up behind it.

Fenris was almost as graceful as he followed, the elf darting as much left as forward, jumping over a thrusting foreleg and slashing it aside for good measure as he moved to flank the creature from its right.

The creature, hissing in annoyance, took two steps back, tail blindly lashing back to keep the darting Isabela back while claws and feet kept Maric and Fenris back with the sheer speed of their movement_. This is like one of those bullfights the Antivan's are fond of_..._and as long as it's moving so fast_... "Anders, I want ice on the ground!"

The mage, exerted from the many spells he'd already cast on the seemingly immune Varterral, grunted in acknowledgement and sent a spear of white frost rushing out from his outstretched hands as he moved to stand next to Garrett.

With a growl, the Varterral slipped on the suddenly appearing mirror of ice under it, body hitting the ground with a crack. "Now!"

Garrett, Maric, Isabela and Fenris all charged as one.

Only for the Varterral to jump back on its feet, lashing tail making Isabela tumble aside to avoid being cut in two, stabbing back leg parrying Fenris' slash before shoving him back, sweeping foreleg driving Maric back with a pained whimper.

Garrett himself found himself cutting a wound along the long neck of the beast...and then tumbled onto his back as the Varterral's forearms smashed into his shield while he was balancing on the ice.

_Oh fu_-

With a hiss, the Varterral pounced on him, its clawed hands shot down, gripping into Garrett's shield as he raised it in time to parry their blows. It leaned down though, breath stinking of decay as its maw opened, massive cutting fangs going right for Garrett's head.

A crunch.

_Holy_...

Gasping, Garrett found himself staring at the inside of the Varterral's mouth as its jaws closed around his head, the fangs worrying at the metal of his helmet, making the silverite protest with a low groan as it begun to bend inwards.

_OFF_!

Garrett's thrust caught the Varterral under its chin, the softer chitin there giving way from his panicked thrust...and he could for a moment _see_ the blade appearing inside its mouth in a fountain of blood. Then the creature let go of him and staggered back, ripping the blade from his hands as it remained lodged in its head, a cry of agony rippling through its throat.

"Nice plan there, Hawke!" At the back, Varric laughed. "Didn't think 'let it taste me' was a strategy!"

Garrett ignored the quip as he struggled onto unsteady feet, shaking hand moving to draw his arming sword as through a mix of blood and Varterral saliva he watched the creature shake its head, trying to dislocate the blade stuck in it. Yet still it was fighting, even _faster_ than before, keeping the entire group back with flailing limbs as it struck out in rage and pain. "Merrill, vines! Focus on the legs!"

"Halam sahlin!" The Dalish gasped, her voice thick with grief and rage, nearly making Garrett glance back before he remembered himself. _Later, battle now_..._it'll_..._be_ _okay_.

From the cave's ceiling, green vines, thick as a man's arm, shot out with surprising speed, animated with far more speed than Merrill usually could muster, the vines slashing down at the Varterral's legs. The creature, already stuck balancing on ice, once more fell, this time with a loud crunch as the impact drove the longsword under its chin further up, making its legs twitched as it struggled to rise.

As one, the warriors of the group jumped it.

Maric caught a foreleg, the soft flesh under the first joint a suddenly easy target for ripping jaws, making the creature shriek as muscle tissues and ligaments were torn off. Fenris was aiming for the other foreleg, but as the Varterral tried to knock him aside, his blow instead caught one of its arms, cutting deep into its elbow and making the forearm hang by a mere thread.

"Not so tough when you can't move, are you!" Isabela's words mirrored Garrett's thoughts as he watched the woman once more dodge the creature's lashing tail. But this time she followed up by leaping up on it, daggers finding the base and stabbing in deep from both sides, making the limb flail and then go still, the nerves controlling it severed.

Garrett was also charging forth, his eyes on the Varterral's head. Seeing it resting its still pierced head on the pommel of his longsword pressed against the ground, Garrett barred his teeth._ I don't need cutting, I need_... He dropped his shield and threw his arming sword up, both hands gripping it by the blade. ..._hammering_! The cross-guard struck the creature's head with a loud crunch, the power of the blow enough to crack chitin...as well as making the Varterral gasp as the hammer-blow forced its head down, further down the length of the longsword braced against the ground.

Its still working foreleg moved to stab at Garrett, only for Fenris to nail it to the ground by spearing the exposed upper muscle with his sword.

Garrett struck again, making the creature wail as the tip of the longsword punched up through the chitin at the top of its skull.

The Varterral's remaining arm tried to lash at the noble, only for Maric to bite into the wrist, worrying at it with a low growl and pinning it fast.

Again, Garrett struck, chitin shattering under the force of the blow, pieces of flesh and brain exploding from the hole as the cross-guard was ripped free.

The Varterral tried to rise, hind-legs trying to drag it back...only for Merrill's vines to curl around one leg while the other was rendered immobile by Isabela's flashing daggers.

A grunt, his breathing a wheeze, Garrett raised his sword high and struck once more.

With a crunch, the arming sword was buried deep into the Varterral's skull while the longsword, finally pushing through all resistance, let the Varterral's head slide down to the ground, the blade itself sticking up from the creature's head, covered in its blood.

_It's_ _over_...

Breathing heavily, Garrett found himself simply leaning on his arming sword, its cross-guard and pommel so firmly stuck in it that it could carry his armoured weight.

Then Varric appeared at his side, patting him on the back. "Good work, mate..." He glanced at the beast. "I'll make an epic story...though I'll leave out the part where you struggle to pull your weapons free."

Garrett couldn't help but smile, taking a deep breath. "You could have helped a little more, you know..."

"Yeah, because my bolts did a lot..." Varric chuckled, giving his crossbow a glance. "Bianca, we'll have to give you some sharper teeth..." His smile faded though, gaze moving up, past the dead Varterral. "Garrett...maybe you should...?"

Blinking away the haze of exhaustion, Garrett looked up... and froze at the sight of Merrill, now quiet as a mouse kneeling by the Dalish, hands cradling the head of the one still clutching at his severed leg. "Anders, with me!"

Garrett wasn't aware of him actually crossing the distance, all he knew was that he was suddenly standing behind Merrill, hesitant to touch her shaking shoulders as the quietly weeping woman held a male elf as white as paper.

The man was whispering something to her, his voice thin, weak...yet eyes flashing, hostile to the last. Then he blinked, sighing in confusion as a green light began to grow around his leg, the kneeling Anders muttering under his breath as he struggled to save the elf.

The Dalish didn't seem to notice the aid though, his eyes widening as he looked past the quietly sobbing Merrill, up at Garrett. "You..." The man hesitated, his voice strained and pained. "...we could have stopped her from getting it...if we'd only..." He glanced down at the Varterral, at the arrows still lodged in it, then up at Garrett. "...don't let her have it, we must stop the...evil...we must...she's not to be trusted, she'll betray and kill us all, she's..."

Garrett, unable to answer, just stared back.

With a sigh, the elf closed his eyes and went limp.

"I put him to sleep, he'll make a recovery with enough rest." Anders muttered, the man slowly struggling to his feet. "Couldn't save the leg though, his body is too weak to handle the strain from such a spell...and so am I."

Garrett mutely nodded and pulled his helmet off before moving to kneel behind Merrill, hand hovering over her shoulder, afraid to touch her, to break the spell she currently seemed to be in. "Merrill...? It's over...we...we have to go, we'll...take them with us."

The Dalish didn't answer.

"M-Merrill?" Garrett swallowed, putting a hand on the shaking shoulder.

At first, the Dalish didn't react, but then she bowed her head. "I'm not...evil...am I?"

"Of course not." Garrett instantly snapped, the thought of someone thinking that making him growl the words.

Merrill's hands, caked with Dalish blood, moved to cover her face, the elf doubling over, body shaking with quiet sobs.

Garrett heart, gripped by a terrible feeling of hopelessness, could only scoot closer, his arms wrapping around her shoulders. _Please stop_.

But Merrill kept crying...

8

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8

"I...thank you." Marethari looked confused and rattled as she turned her head, looking to the dead and wounded men. The two dead lay side by side, but were out of sight due to the throng of grieving Dalish that alternated between weeping for the dead and glaring at both Merrill and her companions, clearly blaming them for the deaths.

There were also many gathered around the wounded man, but for all their glaring and demands to help, Anders had proven, with the help of a snapped order of Marethari's, able to keep them back as he tended to the grievously wounded elf as best he could.

"I'm not sure why they left for the cave...I told them not to." The Keeper continued, grimacing as she turned back to look at Garrett, bowing her head ever so slightly.

At the back, Isabela muttered. "Sometimes the best treasure is denying someone else theirs..."

_Huh, since when do you philosophise_? Garrett brushed the thought aside though, his focus on Marethari and Merrill both._ I don't like this_. The two elves once more looked like they were locked in the battle of wits they'd started before the battle with the Varterral, but this time Merrill was the one with the advantage.

Marethari seemed weary and reluctant, even hesitant, the woman only having been able to lock gazes with her First for a few moments before looking away. She looked cornered.

Merrill on the other hand was even more weary, eyes rimmed red from tears, spots of blood missed from her wiping her face off, dust clinging to her clothes. She also looked grieved and in pain, hurt by the words of the wounded Dalish, of all that had happened, sad beyond words. Yet at the same time...determined, stubborn, ready to finish things, to have what she'd paid so dearly for. _Maker, I don't know whether to admire your passion or hate you for the object of it_.

Her voice, surprisingly, didn't waver, a clipped demand. "I have done the task you put to me, and more. You are _obligated_ to give me the Arulin'Holm."

A sigh, and Marethari's shoulders slumped, eyes pleading. "Please, da'len, think about this, it's not too late to come back to us and forget about all that has happened..."

Merrill narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. "You're obligated to hand it over to the one performing the deed, stop stalling."

Marethari hesitated for a second, then two, then _three_...before pulling a little tool free from her belt. _That's what we've been hunting for_? Garrett couldn't hide his surprise.

It was nothing but a chisel, forged in a single piece of metal, the curvature of the handle seemingly brighter than the blade, a blade covered in black veins, as if it was a living thing that had withered and died in its current state.

Something about it made the hairs on Garrett's neck stand up straight. _Magic_..._distant_...? _Samson would feel it better_.

But when Marethari held out the tool, it was to _Garrett_. Her smile was weary and hesitant, yet her hand didn't shake. "I am...so I give it to _you_, Hawke, do with it as you wish." _You bloody_..._damn_ _it_... With that, the Keeper turned away. "Now, please, leave, I have a wounded clan to tend to..."

Not even looking at Merrill and the happy light in her eyes, Garrett also turned, numbly marching away from the Dalish camp.

_Maker_...

_Maker_...

"Garrett?"

_Maker_..._what_ _do_ _I_ _do_ _now_?

_I can't_...

"Garrett?"

_I can't in good conscience_..._I mustn't_..._but she_..._but_ _I_...

"Garrett?"

A hand on his arm stopped him short, making Garrett turn around to face the unavoidable with a deep sigh.

Before him, Merrill was grinning, looking relieved. "For a while there, I thought she wouldn't hand it over..." She held out her hand. "We're away from the camp, you can give it to me now."

Garrett swallowed. "No."

Merrill blinked. "I'm...sorry?"

"No, I'm not giving it to you."

A disbelieving scoff escaped the elf at that, the woman taking half a step back as she turned her head, looking at the others for support...and finding Anders and Fenris glaring at her as the others studiously looked elsewhere and began to inch away. "Wha...are you serious?"

Garrett nodded. "As serious as I can get."

"But...you can't." Merrill shook her head, completely baffled. "That's a relic of _my_ people, and I _just_ earned the right to it."

"_We_ earned the right to it, and she gave it to _me_..." Garrett straightened, taking a deep breath as he felt his resolve waver. "...and I'll keep it as long as I want."

Merrill stared at him, then shook her head. "No-no, you give it to me."

"I won't."

"You can't...it's a _Dalish_ relic! Give it to me!"

"I don't care what it is, you're _not_ getting it." Seeing Merrill still shocked at the turn of events, Garrett hurried to add. "Two have already died due to this quest, Merrill, another will never walk again, let it go before more people suffer."

Merrill shook her head, anger rising in her voice. "And that's _exactly_ why you must give it to me. I have to put things right, I have to make their deaths _worth_ it!" She narrowed her eyes, something close to a growl escaping her. "Now hand it over!"

"No!" Garrett snapped back, feeling his own ire rise. "You were willing to go do this on your own! If you had you would now be _dead_! I accompanied you to save you from getting yourself killed, _not_ to help you with the Eluvian! I have saved you, and now I intend to do it again...whether you like it or not." Gripping the Arulin'Holm tightly, Garrett crossed his arms over his chest.

Merrill's hands dropped down to her hips, gripping them so tight her knuckles whitened. "I...that figures! You don't care about me _or_ my work!"

Garrett grimaced, shoulders slumping. "I _do_ care about you, that's why I can't-"

"Oh, so you just don't trust me!?"

"Not when it comes to-"

"_You_ who just betrayed my _own_ trust! I _asked_ you for help! I _came_ to you! You offered to help and now you're...you're...instead of putting another relic together, you're _stealing_ from us!?" Garrett took a step back, mouth hanging open at the sudden accusation. Before him, Merrill's face was twisted into a picture of rage. "Figures! I should have known better than to trust a shem! You're all alike!"

Garrett's eyes narrowed, anger lashing back against the hurtful accusation. "Oh I'm sorry, I thought _shemlen_ was the _proper_ insult!? Then again, you're not really Dalish either? Clan cast you out and you live in the city, _flat_ _ear_."

Merrill blinked, her face turning red, then she blinked again, eyes narrowing even further. "Oh I'm sorry I wasn't born as a big ugly human who'll always be judged by his actions rather than the shape of his ear, I'm _sooo_ sorry!" A hand shot out, shoving Garrett back as best she could. "What do you know of being an elf or Dalish!? What do _you_ know of the struggles we face!? You know _nothing_!"

"I know enough!" Garrett snapped back, shaking his head. _I need to stop this before it gets out of hand_. "And this is ridiculous, I'm just trying to protect-"

"Of course you are! Because you always know _best_, don't you!?" Merrill growled, shoving him again. "Doesn't matter if it's your friends, family or the_ entire city_! You _always_ have to be in charge and tell others what to do!" She shoved him a third time.

With a growl, Garrett shoved back, making the elf stumble backwards as anger gripped him. "Well I know better than the _idiot_ who's trying to hug a demon that's tried to kill her twice! I know better than to meddle with _blood magic_! I know better than to risk the lives of my friends so casually-!"

"Tell that to _Bethany_!"

Silence.

Garrett stared at Merrill.

Who stared back.

With a growl, Garrett stepped forward.

He saw the regret in Merrill's eyes a moment too late as he found himself shoving her, _hard_, sending her tumbling to the ground as the words in turn tumbled out of his mouth. "You do _not_ speak of her, you have no _right_!"_ Stop now, don't say anything mo_- "She was a better mage than you in _every_ respect! Where was your vaunted blood magic when she lay dying in my arms, huh!? All it does is _destroy_! It'll destroy you _and_ your clan! Why? Because you're a _blind fool_! You are not going to save them! You're going to get them all _killed_!"

Still on the ground, Merrill hissed at him, eyes narrowed, venom dripping from her voice. "You know _nothing_ of us, nothing, and you'll _never_ understand. You think you know best...but you really _are_ just another shemlen, cruel and thinking you know what's best for the elves, as your kind _always_ has. Can't believe I thought you a friend..."

Garrett glared back. "And you're just an idiot elf...can't believe I felt...that I risked my life for such a person..." He took a step back, his insides in chaos, the anger making way for...he wasn't sure, but it _hurt_.

Merrill's face shifted, the rage replaced by something else, but before Garrett could make sense of it, she turned her head away, an angry sniffle escaping her. "I...never want to see you again."

It hurt_ a lot_.

Garrett took a step back, blinking away angry tears.

"Fine, then go away." He almost threw out another insult, but found himself suddenly bereft of all energy, his body feeling heavy and sluggish. _Why is my chest_..._hurting_ _so_...? "And _stay_ away."

A sniffle...and Merrill got to her feet and begun to limp away.

_I shouldn't look, I should_...

Garrett looked up, after the lithe elf slowly disappearing in the underbrush.

And it hurt.

8

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8

_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for her endurance._


	58. Chapter 58

_Maker, __how__ did I get into this position_?

Isabela, sighing, was leaning her head against the door, hand softly knocking on it, _again_. "You have to come out at some point, kitten..."

All Isabela got in reply was a sniffle from the other side.

"Well she doesn't _have_ to...there's a chamber-pot in there and I think her cupboards as well." Varric chuckled, making Isabela roll her eyes. "Think she can endure a siege for a few days, at least."

Sighing, Isabela temporarily gave up her attempt to coax a response out of the Dalish and turned to face the dwarf, eyes once more taking in the place with something akin to admiration, as always surprised to see what Varric had been able to produce for living quarters for Merrill.

The place wasn't clean, though Merrill had clearly tried to make it neat, there was only so much one could do with big cracks in the walls and ceiling letting dust and rats in. Nor did it really smell all that good either, there was always a strange pungent scent in cities such as Kirkwall, but the Alienages were always ten times worse, with no amount of pine brought from the forest able to repel it.

Yet it was _far_ larger than any alienage elf could boast about. Isabela knew some elves lived nearly on top of one another, of families of fifteen living in a space _half_ the size of Merrill's place...the fact that Varric had secured so much property for the elf spoke volumes of his contacts. Not to mention his generosity, he'd barely known the girl back then. _Maker, wish I could ask him for help too, bet those contacts would prove useful_... Shrugging aside the thought that she knew would only lead down a dark path, Isabela eyed the smirking dwarf so casually leaning against a door-frame with his arms crossed over his chest. "You could be helping a bit more, you know."

"I think I'll wait until she's calmed down a little, I'm just here to make sure she doesn't do anything stupid until then." The man pretended to scrutinize his fingernails as he drawled on. "But you continue banging your head against a wall, sorry, _door._ I find it entertaining...I thought you more of a 'no attachments' kind of girl?"

Isabela groaned, as always, the dwarf was far too clever for his own good. "Well come on, it's _Merrill_ here..._not_ doing anything would be like...like...kicking a puppy?" Varric arched an eyebrow, making her growl. "I'm still the same, pirate and scoundrel to the soul." She shook her head, voice a mutter. "Bloody Garrett..."

"To be fair, I think he did the right thing." Varric muttered back, the dwarf looked up at Isabela with an empathic sigh. "Didn't look like an easy choice either."

Isabela grimaced, but nodded. There was something...unsettling with the way Merrill had been so focused, so _fixated_, on the mirror and the goal of their recent quest. Her argument with Garrett, a man she clearly cared for, had only been the culmination of the whole thing. _Lovers' spat_..._and me caught in the middle_..._great_. Raising her voice, she directed it at the door behind her. "Come on, girl! Please come out...I'll...errr...persuade Anders to let you play with his cats if you come out?"

"Weak." Varric snickered even as the answer from behind the door was a continuous whimpering.

Isabela shot the dwarf a withering look. "What do you want from me? I don't usually do this shit."

"You'll learn." Varric smirked, apparently set on being difficult.

Isabela's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Come on, Varric, _please_ help a girl out here...you want her to feel better as much as I do."

"That's better." Varric's smirk somehow got broader as he pushed himself off the door-frame and approached. "See? Having friends is good and helpful?" The dwarf shook his head in disbelief even as he turned his gaze to the door. "Can't believe I have to tell first Garrett and now you this simple truth..." He raised his voice, tone gentle. "Daisy, please come out, we just want to talk to you...if you don't want to talk, we understand, but we'd like to help."

"Wait, did you just compare me and Garrett-" Varric held up a finger, silencing Isabela's burgeoning protest at such a comparison, making her take an irritated breath as the dwarf kept his eyes on the door. "And stop that, she's _not_ going to-"

A click made Isabela whirl around in surprise...though not fast enough to avoid noticing Varric's knowing smile at being proven right. Before her, the door was slowly swinging open, the red-eyed Dalish behind it looking exceedingly small with her slumped shoulders, head bowed and hands in front of her lap. Her voice was a quavering squeak. "H-hi."

_Oh you poor dear_. Before Isabela knew what she was doing, she was holding Merrill, her arms wrapping tight around the elf's shoulders and back. "Are you okay?" It was a ridiculous question, and one holding a frightening answer as Isabela caught a glimpse of the mirror beyond the doorway from whence Merrill had come, the jagged edge of a broken piece marked by a trickle of blood. "I...I know you're sad about...all of this." _Yeah, good supporting there, Isabela, ass_...

"Y-yeah.." Merrill muttered, sounding awkward. "C-could...could you...

_Could I_...? Isabela frowned in confusion, but Varric was faster. "What she's trying to say is that everyone here still loves and cares for you, and that things aren't as bad as they might seem." He paused, then rolled his eyes. "And I think, Isabela, Merrill is trying to ask you to take your breasts out of her face."

_Oh_. Isabela reluctantly let go of the elf and took a step back, finding the elf still looking disheartened and upset, but now with a lovely flush to her cheeks as well. "Sorry...and yes, that's what I meant...you and Garrett had an argument, big deal."

"It _is_ a big deal!" Merrill protested, looking away with a flash of anger and regret in her eyes. "I was just...I just wanted..."

"Come on, sit down..." Varric's tone was as gentle as his big hands as he guided the elf to her rickety dinning table, seating the elf before taking the creaking chair next to it, his head cocked to the side, eyes on the little woman. "...you wanted it to work out, yes, now you instead find yourself at odds with Garrett, and that _hurts_, I understand."

"Yeah, b-but...the...he had no right to-"

Varric's face remained gentle, yet there was a hint of an edge in his tone. "He did what he thought best, Daisy, not for himself, but for _you_...given your own break from traditions within the Dalish, I don't think you're in a position to criticize."

"But..I..." Merrill bit her bottom lip, head tilting down. "...it wasn't supposed to go like this. I wasn't supposed to have to leave the clan. I...I wasn't supposed to resort to...to use...or to...human..."

Isabela blinked, the Dalish's words were nigh incomprehensible at the end, yet not, given the distressed look in Merrill's eyes. _Eugh, love, see, this is why you should avoid it_... "Kitten, you had a _spat_, the world hasn't ended."

The elf looked up, confusion written in her face at Isabela's words...but Varric was faster. "What Isabela is trying to say is that while yes, you and Garrett are at odds right now, that doesn't have to _last_." His hand moved to rest on the elf's, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Garrett is still up in Hightown..."

Merrill hesitated, looked over to Isabela, then Varric...and then visibly shook as she looked back down at the table, her eyes squeezing shut to fruitlessly try to hold back the grief. "B-but I s-said su-such _mean_ th-things...!" She shook her head furiously, as if she could shake away the troubles. "I d-didn't _want_ to b-but I di-did it anyway! I'm s-such a b-bad fr-friend a-and th-then h-he sa-said..."

"You _both_ said things you didn't mean and regretted the moment you said them." Varric filled in, hand still on Merrill's as the other stroked her back. "We all saw it, dear. I'm sure Garrett is just as broken up about this as you are."

"Bet he'll be all stoic about it." Isabela grunted, feeling out of her element...and wincing as Varric shot her an unamused look. "Yet hurting a lot on the inside, obviously, that's just how he is."

"I...I can't just..." Merrill muttered, apparently unable to put her thoughts into words.

"What? Go go him?" Isabela filled in, then snorted, unable to help herself. "It's the easiest thing in the world, kitten, you put one foot in front of the other, then you're there. Don't let fear hold you back, not when staying like this will just make you miserable."

Merrill sniffled at the words and Varric shot Isabela an exasperated look, then sighed when he turned back to the elf. "As...blunt as Isabela might be, she's _right_, you could go there right now and...well I think everything would work out, actually. Maybe some tears, a few upset feelings, but in the end...well it'll be resolved and you'll be friends again."

_If anything, biology might fix things, so some sweat, a few shudders of pleasure and a nice end_... Isabela smirked at the thought,then shook it aside, forehead wrinkling. _Though those two together_..._Maker, even I see the potential for even more heartbreak in the future_.

Merrill looked up at Varric's words, eyes darting left and right as she thought it over, panic in her shaking hands. "Y-you think...?"

"I'm _sure_ of it." Isabela said before Varric could reply. "Trust me, kitten, I've seen this many times before..." _Usually from further away to avoid the bothersome feelings and shouts, but still_. "...and I've yet to see these things be resolved for the better by a good old face-to-face..." Noticing Varric's sharp look, Isabela took the hint. "..._talk_."

"I...maybe..." A glitter of hope in Merrill's eyes as she turned to look at Varric. "I-if...do you think he'd give-"

The dwarf's reply was curt and stern, almost reminding Isabela of Garrett. "No, he won't."

"Oh..." Merrill looked crestfallen and ashamed for having asked, staring down at her hands again, but the look faded in half a second as a little toothy smile darted up to her mouth. "But I'd get him back, we'd be together again..."

Isabela couldn't stop herself from smirking. "As a _friend_, you mean."

"Wha...? Yes, of course." Merrill's gaze darted up to Isabela, then to the side as her cheeks flushed.

Isabela and Varric could do nothing but exchange an exasperated look.

8

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8

"She's locking them up like dogs now! Slightest offence and you're sent to a 'chamber'!" Aveline sighed as Anders, unfazed by the looks of the two others in the room, railed on while marching back and forth across Garrett's office. She herself had taken a position by the door, leaning against the doorpost with a bored look on her face. "So now you either get to sleep in a big barrack with _no_ privacy...or you're given all the privacy in the world as they lock you into a cell! I don't know what's worse, having templars gripping swords watching you and others sleep or having them stand just outside a locked door, but neither is right! They're treated like _criminals_!"

"Yes, I know, you've told us, _twice_." Garrett muttered.

The man was sitting in the big chair behind his desk, fingers interlocked in front of him, eyes on Anders. Yet despite that, he didn't look attentive, his gaze distant, dark rings around his eyes and an air of weariness and restlessness both emanating from him. _Guess that argument with Merrill really did a number on him, huh_? _I should ask Isabela about it_..._Maker, I hang out with that woman too much_.

"I know I have! Yet you have done _nothing_!" Anders snapped, stopping to point an accusing finger across the room and at the noble. "I thought you were on _our_ side on this!"

"I'm on _my_ side, holding true to _my_ beliefs on this." Garrett sighed, giving a minuscule shrug that just seemed to infuriate Anders further._ At least he's not glowing_..._Maker, one day he'll just explode and I'll be left to clean up the pieces_. "I'm not about to overthrow the chantry, nor to join your little rebellion. You should be glad I respect and honour you enough not to work _against_ you when you cause so much trouble with Meredith with your helping of mages to escape." Garrett's hands moved up, slowly, to rub his temples._ He looks tired_. "I've not forgotten Bethany, before you say that..." The man grimaced at the name for some reason. "...but nothing has changed, you can't expect miracles against an organization so rooted in the city as the templars. To uproot a tree you need time to dig, setting it ablaze is not an option."

Anders shook his head, looking away with a growl. "Well maybe a fire now and again is good for the forest as a whole..."

"Don't say that." Garrett and Aveline snapped in unison, the later nodding to the former to continue, the man nodding back with a growl aimed at Anders. "Nothing will hurt your cause more than the revolution you still seem to hold close to your heart. A dead mage is not free, and given your tales, I'm sure those that survived would _wish_ they were dead." The man shook his head. "Patience is a virtue, I'd have thought you'd learnt that by now."

"Patience is...difficult for me." Anders growled, his hands clenched tight to his sides. "Especially when I everyday see and hear of mages suffering at the hands of these...bullies. You say Meredith isn't unreasonable, but I see the marks of her teachings every day, extremism is flourishing in the Templar keep."

Aveline arched an eyebrow, tone dry. "Unlike _here_, you mean, revolutionary?"

Anders turned, glowering at the woman. "Oh yes, paint _me_ as the villain here, _guards-woman_. Everyone _knows_ the templars have the guard in their pocket."

"Do they now?" Aveline snorted, the accusation stinging after all her work of removing the previous administration's errors. "That's news to me...tell me, _how_ many mages have the guard arrested this year and handed over to the templars?"

"Eight!" Anders roared, taking two steps closer, looking as if he was about to punch her.

Aveline simply crossed her arms over her chest, unimpressed. "And how many of those were well-meaning mages in hiding? I think..._none_, I think those eight were in fact _criminals_ working for gangs and generally causing unrest. I make no difference from assault with a sword and one with a lightning-bolt, both will be taken in, but as the_ law_ says, those that do it with magic do get passed to the templars for sentencing."

Anders sighed, shaking his head at her in clear disapproval. "They only do so because they're desperate. They're _driven_ to it by the situation they're in, by the need not to _starve_..."

"And how is that different from the other criminals in this city?" Garrett grunted, meeting Anders' glare with a steady gaze of his own. "You want _equality_, these mages do the same thing others do, why should the guard look the other way for them?"

For a second, there was no answer, then Anders pointed an accusing finger at Aveline. "The difference is that she sends them to the templars!"

"Because that's the _law_." Aveline growled, annoyed. "If child commits a crime, I send it to the orphanage, if a visitor commits a crime, I send them to their city for sentencing, if a Qunari commits a crime, I send them to the Arishok." _However unwillingly_..._man never punishes them, claiming they did nothing wrong, stupid Qun_..."I do things by the book, and I'm _not_ sorry if that means arresting some of your friends who come to commit crime, that's what I _do_."

"Without thought of as to _why_ or _who_ wrote the laws...the chantry has you nicely wrapped around your finger, don't they?" Anders' reply made Aveline stand straight, eyed hard as she met Anders' glare. "How does it feel, being a puppet?"

"That's _enough_." Garrett snapped, the man slamming his palms into the table. "We did not come here to have you insult Aveline and throw accusations and demands around. My answer is final. I will _not_ demand of Meredith to do _anything_, not at _this_ juncture, because it _won't work_" He looked away, grimacing, clearly tired. "You can see yourself out."

Grumbling, Anders shot Garrett a final look before heading for the door, his shoulder slamming into Aveline's for good measure as he passed, nearly making him stumble. _Yeah, try tackling the woman known as the 'tank' among the guardsmen, smart_... Grunting in irritation, Anders shot her a final glare before slamming the door shut behind himself.

The moment the mage left, Garrett sighed and sank deeper into the chair, eyelids nearly closing for a moment as he muttered. "Maker, that man makes me tired at times..."

"Slept poorly?" Aveline asked, inching a little closer, hands behind her back and head tilted to the side.

"Yeah." The man shrugged, then straightened in his seat, glancing back to Aveline with a tired look. "Anyway, we had another topic of discussion...given our relatively strong position in Kirkwall, you and I are the two with both the power and will to do something about these Qunari issues..." Aveline grimaced._ Issues is one way to call it_... "What are we looking at right now?"

"Well the Qunari might only number three hundred, but they now have about a thousand elven followers within their walls...Maker knows how they keep all of them in order in such a small space as the one they've been given, but they're managing." Aveline sighed. "Those elves though...they get into problems any time they leave the Qunari compound. It isn't often, admittedly, but when they do they...well they're not really doing anything illegal at first, but their defiant behaviour creates a lot of anger and arguments with the humans in the city, and these elves are, when threatened, more than happy to throw the first punch, creating a riots and the like."

"Yes, I can imagine it stings the eyes a bit to see alienage elves all of a sudden acting...uppity." Garrett grimaced, looking away. "I've had complaints from both nobles and merchants of a lack of manpower too. Personally I think they should suck it up and hire something but elves that they basically turn into serfs, but the problem is that it causes yet more unrest, as you've noted."

"And then there's Petrice with her bloody fanatics." Aveline groaned, shaking her head. "You wouldn't _believe_ how many protests and riots I've had to quell as of late, she's working up the poor into a fever-pitch!" She shuddered at the thought, moving a little closer. "This'll end in blood if we don't manage something soon."

"The guard is too small, and most nobles love their trading with the Qunari too much to willingly aid in anything that might help the Qunari leave." Garrett grunted, wearily shaking his head. "I've just...we have to..." A sigh and another shake of his head. "...they need to leave, and soon, relic or no relic."

"Given how many followers they now have, their fortified position and all those Qunari 'toys'...I don't think _making_ them doing anything will be easy." Aveline grimaced.

"Yes...bloody Dumar, we shouldn't have let them in." Garrett sighed, staring down at the table. "I...might have to talk to Meredith about this. She has the numbers for making the Qunari, as even they have self-preservation instincts, leave in a peaceful manner."

"Meredith? As in the templars?" Aveline blinked. _Anders will not be happy to hear __that_. "Why would she? She doesn't care."

"The Qunari have mages, and there could be elven mages hiding among them...that might be enough of an argument to sway her." Garrett noticed Aveline's doubting look. "I know, but it's worth a shot, I...don't know what else to do."

Aveline sighed, changing the subject. "You really _are_ tired, you should get some rest." The words made the man grimace. "Is this about Merrill?"

"I don't know..." Garrett leant back, hands coming to rest behind his head as his gaze lazily drifted to the ceiling, eyes pained, forehead wrinkled. "...I keep thinking I did the right thing yet...it doesn't _feel_ like it." He looked back to Aveline, a look of confusion on his face. "I...don't understand this."

Aveline nearly smiled at the look on the man's face. _Donnic_..._Maker, he confused me too at first_. "What don't you understand?"

"I...she's more trouble than she's worth. She's stubborn, she's a _blood mage_, she's downright _foolish_ at times...she drives me _insane_..." Garrett looked away, shoulders slumping and a dejected look on his face. "...I should be happy that I got her out of my hair, I _should_."

"Yet you're not." Aveline smiled this time, unable to help herself. "Besides, she's still in the city, just let things calm down a bit and then...you know."

"M-maybe."_ Did he just stutter_? Garrett looked uncertain at the prospect, the man visibly swallowing as he kept looking away. "I...need to think about that, to...I don't know...figure things out..."

Aveline couldn't help but roll her eyes.

_Right, that'll work_...

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for whipping me to go forward._


	59. Chapter 59

Garrett was reading.

Or, _trying_ to.

It wasn't going well.

Sighing, he shifted in his favourite chair that was usually so comfortable, now too soft. By the table his glass of wine, usually more or less forgotten, stood nearly empty. The cheese next to it, the remains usually dried and crusty at the end, was gone besides a few crumbs on the silver platter.

At the other end of the room, the mechanical clock he'd bought from a dwarven merchant clicked all too loudly at the start of every minute.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

**Tock**.

_Bloody thing, shouldn't have listened to mother_. _Sure, it looks nice, but how important is it to tell if it's five minutes too or five minutes past_? _If that was important to someone, they'd stress themselves to an early grave_.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

**Tock**.

_Eugh, maybe I should get more wine_. Garrett looked back to the practically empty glass...and then caught himself looking further up, at the _other_ chair, at the _empty_ chair. It somehow made the room less colourful. _This is ridiculous, I don't need company to read, I didn't __need__ it even when Bethany was around_, _and I __certainly__ don't need __her__ around_...

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

**Tock**.

_I hate this_. Sighing, Garrett looked back to his book, eyes skimming texts he hadn't really read in the first place. _Where's the fun in discovery and ideas if you can't share them_...?

Garrett didn't like the answer the silence of the room offered him.

_This is ridiculous, I just have to get accustomed to how I used to do it, no big deal, it'll take a little while, but then it'll be as it used to be, and I'll be content_.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

**Tock**.

_Oh shut up, what do you know_? Garrett scowled at the clock, then looked around himself with a sigh. _And where's Maric_? _Bloody mutt is avoiding me_..._as is the rest of the household, it feels like_. _Silly, I'm not in __that__ bad of a mood_..._idiots_. He glanced back at the chair at the other end of the table and his scowl deepened as he with a growl dropped the book onto the table, only for the thing to hit the edge of the silver platter, sending cheese-crumbs flying everywhere. "Maker, damn it!"

A sweep of Garrett's hand and the plater was sent off the table and skittered across the floor, the glass wobbling dangerously close to tipping before he snatched it up and swallowed what little bitter remains there was. Huffing, the man cradled the now empty glass, eyes as empty as he stared straight ahead, mouth a bitter line._ Tell that to Bethany_..._she didn't mean it, I know, but_..._Maker_ _damn_ _her_. A sigh escaped him, his shoulders slumping. _How can one person make you so sad_?

Then the door opened.

Unable to help himself, Garrett automatically sent a glare that way, making the elf in the door recoil in fright. "M-master...?"

"It's Serah, or _Garrett_, Orana." Garrett managed to force the thinnest of smiles, though all it seemed to manage was to make the elf pull back even further._ The Tevinters really did a number on her, she's still skittish when around anyone but other servants_. "What is it?"

"Th-there's templars here..." Garrett rose, making the elf's eyes bulge. "They ha-have asked to sp-speak to you?"

"Ah, so Meredith decided to answer my message in person? And so soon?" Garrett wasn't sure if it was a good or a bad sign, but the idea of having something to focus on was welcome. "Have they been brought to the meeting chamber or hall?"

"_Chamber_, m-serah." Orana curtsied, head bowed as she slowly relaxed, as she usually did when the initial fear of being near the one in power faded with the lack of threats of blood-sacrifices and violence. "Th-there's no Meredith there though, Serah, but two men." _Underlings_?_ A bad sign_. "I, there's talk among the other servants that..." Orana slammed her mouth shut, seemingly cursing herself for having spoken up.

"Talk about what?" Garrett asked, not in the mood for games. The elf looked away. "Orana?"

"I...sorry, Serah, it's not my place to speak of...I...I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything..." The woman was visibly beginning to sweat, eyes widening in panic. "I'm not...I shouldn't, I would n-never-"

"It's okay." Noticing the beginning of the panic-attacks the elf sometimes got, Garrett moved closer, keeping his tone neutral. "It's not your place, I understand, no need to tell me then." Carefully, he placed a hand on Orana's shoulder, the elf flinched, but didn't pull away. "Lets' forget about it."

"Y-yes Serah, thank you..." Orana nodded, grateful even as she looked away, unable to meet his gaze.

"Good." Giving her shoulder a last pat, Garrett brushed past the servant and out the doorway, his steps measured as he mentally prepared for the coming discussion. He crossed the main hall in silence, vaguely aware of a distinct lack of servants in it as they still strived to avoid him. S_o two men_..._probably a second in command with guard, Cullen_?_ That's good, he's a reasonable man and could be convinced to go my way if he has been given some leeway by Meredith_.

The meeting chamber was three doors away, and only at the second one did he see anyone, the servant Fenn giving him a worried look before scurrying off. _What's with people today_? Garrett brushed the question aside._ I need to stress the need for calm and order, for the dangers posed by Qunari and how the mages could exploit it_..._I need to_-

Having just opened the last door, Garrett came to a standstill, heart seemingly stopping.

Carver was standing just at the other side of the door, so close Garrett could _touch_ the man...and his face was a mask of neutrality that couldn't quite conceal a lingering hostility. His voice was cold, polite, the greeting of a stranger. "Hello, brother."

A foreboding sense of dread fell over Garrett at the greeting...and then he brushed it aside and forced a smile. "Brother! I didn't know _you_ were here! Good to see you!" Garrett moved to hug the man...and then found himself changing his mind at the sight of Carver's posture and instead offered his hand.

Carver was in templar armour, but had taken the gauntlets off, and so took the offered hand, giving it a firm but quick shake before releasing Garrett and stepping to the side, tone still bereft of any warmth or even recognition. "I believe you've met Knight-Captain Cullen before?"

Tearing his eyes from his brother, Garrett forced himself to look at the rest of the chamber.

The room was sizeable and rectangular in shape, as was the large table dominating it, allowing for many to be seated. At the nearest edge of the table, Cullen was standing, the Knight-Captain smiling politely, if somewhat awkwardly. Further away at the other end of the room, Leandra was standing, hugging her shoulders and staring at Carver with a mixture of disbelief and hurt, a stare the man was stoically ignoring. _What the_...? The atmosphere was awkward in the room, words said before Garrett had entered seemingly lingering.

Cullen's forced smile was at least something, and the man didn't hesitate to move closer and offer his own hand. "Garrett, nice to see you, it's been some time."

Garrett took the hand, giving it a shake. "Y-yes, yes it has." He shot Carver a puzzled look, but all he met was a wall in the dark blue eyes of his kin. "I'm sorry, I'm a little taken off guard, didn't realise you'd take my brother with you as a guard."

"It's _K__night-Captain_, actually." Carver's correction was rapt and acidly, like a poisoned whip snapping out.

"_Acting_ knight-captain, actually." Cullen corrected with a little chuckle. "You still have to earn the promotion, brother." To Garrett's horror, Carver actually shot a smile back at the other templar. _He can spare him one but not me or mother_...? _Wh-what's happened_? "But yes, I figured it would be nice to bring him along for this mission, seeing as how he has relations here..." Cullen awkwardly shifted back and forth at his own words, obviously struggling to conceal how noticeable the lack of warmth in the room was. "My apologies on Meredith's behalf, but she's a very busy woman and could not come herself."

"I understand. To be honest I expected it to take longer for someone to come and speak to me." Garrett smiled back.

"Doesn't take long if all your message contains is a 'no'." Carver replied, tone droll and face a neutral mask.

Garrett shot his brother a disapproving look, his horror and confusion slowly being replaced by irritation. Cullen was faster though, his chuckle forced as he spoke up. "Perhaps we should...sit down?"

"Yes, let's." Garrett agreed with a nod, moving to the centre of the longer side of the table on the left as the templars moved to mimic his seating on the right. "Mother, want to sit with me or perhaps next to Carver...?"

The woman finally tore her gaze from Carver, the man still having ignored her like she was a piece of furniture. "N-no...I...I think I'll be going..." She shot Carver a look, but the boy didn't even glance at her as he took his seat. "Though...m-maybe...I'll bring some refreshments...?" Leandra blinked, her eyes visibly filling with tears.

Carver still didn't look at her as he answered instead of Garrett. "That won't be necessary, we won't be long."

Leandra bit her lower lip, looked to Garrett, then to Carver...and turned away and fled.

Garrett, clenching his fists under the table, slowly turned his head to glare at Carver...who blankly looked back, seemingly unfazed. _What_. _The_. _Hell_?! If the fury in Garrett's eyes was noticed by Carver, he didn't show it in anything but an arrogant cocking of an eyebrow.

Cullen, shifting where he sat, eyed the look on Garrett's face with worry, the man visibly taking a deep breath before he started. "Right, perhaps we should...err...focus on the issue at hand?"

"That would be best." Garrett agreed, gaze _fixed_ on Carver, who met it without the slightest bit of a waver.

"Carver here is not...incorrect." Cullen started. "The issue of the Qunari _is_ a stately business and does not enter Templar jurisdiction. In fact, given Thedas making peace with the Qunari, Templar forces are under _strict_ orders not to start any future conflicts."

"Considering how the templars _still_ like to enter Kirkwall's business on a daily basis, I don't think too much on this." Garrett replied. "I've gone through the records with the chantry scribe Meredith sent, and while the taxing of the state has dropped at least somewhat, there seems to be a lot of 'borrowing' going on...the withdrawals from the Kirkwall treasury are now less frequent, but often larger. _Normally_ when one borrows money, it's expected for it to be paid _back_ at some date...the templars have given no such time-plan and continue to avoid any discussions of debt."

"This is about the Qunari, not the Templar finances." Carver droned back, eyes never leaving Garrett's, expression never changing.

"_True_..." Garrett gritted his teeth, trying to keep his tone reasonable. "...but I'm saying that this shows that the templars _can_ and _have_ entered stately jurisdiction already...the only difference here is that I'm asking them to _give_, rather than to _take_."

_Was that a flash of anger in Carver's eyes, or just a trick of the light_...? Whatever it was, it was gone in a second as Cullen spoke. "Why I understand and even _sympathise_ with your stance in this, Serah, our primary concern is the containing of mages and hunting of apostates, Meredith has been _very_ clear about nothing else having priority."

_Damn_. "The situation with the Qunari is escalating though, it's out of hand, causing disruption and tensions everywhere." Garrett replied, _still_ staring at Carver and _still_ facing nothing but a blank stare back. "Remember the stolen Qunari gas issue? Then-"

"Yes, you were quite the hero then." Carver interrupted, his tone neutral, bereft of criticism, jealousy or sarcasm...yet Garrett still felt all of that, making him pull back in confusion. _Why are you so_..._angry_...?

A narrowing of his eyes, and Garrett continued. "Yes, I had fortune on my side, but the _point_ is that it caused quite a few apostates in hiding to go insane and do all manner of things, not to mention become vulnerable to demonic possession. As long as the Qunari are here, they're a risk that can cause something similar to happen."

"Good, then we'll find more of them." Carver snapped back, making Garrett tense in his seat. _Bloody idiotic_...

"Actually, this is indeed a concern and worrying." Cullen quickly spoke up, obviously trying to salvage the situation. "But again, the orders are clear, we're not to interfere, I'm sorry." He sounded genuinely disturbed by his own answer, and then he winced as he continued. "In fact, Meredith has in light of the need for stability in the city _instructed_ me to tell you not to cause any further disruptions with the Qunari."

"What?" Garrett blinked and looked to Cullen, his fists tightening in rage as he in the corner of his eye spotted Carver smiling at how his brother had been the first to break eye-contact. "Are you telling me that Meredith told you to come here and tell me she won't lift a finger to disarm the issue with the Qunari because it's not in her jurisdiction...and then to order _me_ about!?"

"She _is_ the Knight-Commander." Carver pointed out, sounding smug.

"She could be the Chantry's _laundry-woman _ for all I care, she does _not_ give me orders!" Garrett snapped back, glaring at the now smirking Carver. "I do _not_ answer to her!"

"Yet she's supposed to answer to you?" Carver asked, eyebrow arched as he prodded Garrett.

"I sent a message _asking_ for her help! _Not_ demanding it! There's a difference!" Garrett fumed, wanting nothing but to flip the table over his brother's smug face. "She's _not_ the Viscount, nor can she continue to reap the benefits of exploiting Kirkwall without shouldering even an _ounce_ of the responsibility! It cannot and will not work in the long run!" He snapped his head round, looking to Cullen. "And you can tell her I said that! Also, add that if she thinks Kirkwall comes second to the templars, she's _dead wrong_."

Cullen, grimacing, nodded in acknowledgement. "I'm...sorry, Serah. But take my well-wishes, I too hope for a resolution of the issue, the atmosphere in Kirkwall has steadily grown sour as of late." A sigh, and he put his hands on the table. "That said...I do believe we're done here, unfortunately." The Templar pushed himself to his feet, Carver slowly following suit as he looked to the furious Garrett with something akin to satisfaction in his eyes. _What the hell is wrong with you_...?

Garrett, growling to himself, rose too, shaking his head as he did so. "I think Meredith is making a mistake, but as pointed out, I cannot tell her what to do." _Bloody should be though_. "I trust you can see yourself out? I have a lot of work to look forward to now." _Plus, I find the current company_..._upsetting_. Garrett looked to Carver, finding his insides in turmoil at the cool look he was being given.

"Yes, of course." Cullen grimaced as he moved towards the door, hand coming to Carver's shoulder to lead the man out...only to be stopped by the other templar.

"By the way, _brother_..." The word seemed to fit poorly in Carver's mouth, like it was something distasteful. "...how is Merrill doing?"

Garrett looked at Carver in surprise, and though he found himself looking at a carefully arranged mask, it was not difficult to discern the cause of the question. _Still, huh_? The thought of the elf hurt though, and Garrett shrugged as he looked away. "I wouldn't know, sorry."

"_Really_? Not what _I_ had heard..." Carver replied, his tone shifting, turning more venomous. "...figured you'd gotten over your issues and wanted someone to replace Athenril, but, you know, the relationship being the other way around..."

Silence.

Stillness.

And then Garrett slowly turned to look at Carver, insides cold.

His dull eyes met Carver's angry ones.

"Get out of my house."

"What? You can't order me around any-"

"_Now_."

Cullen scrambled forward, grabbing Carver by the arm and pulling him back. "Of course, Serah, as you say." The other templar reluctantly followed as he shot Garrett a final glare.

When the door finally slammed shut, Garrett sat down, hands moving to cover his face.

And wept.

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for bouncing to the task at hand, and to all a merry Christmas._


	60. Chapter 60

_More complaints about the Qunari_..._great_.

Garrett, having just intercepted a servant carrying his daily mail, muttered in annoyance at the book-thick wad of papers in his hand. Crossing the Main Hall, he found his face knotted in the by now permanent scowl, already trying to gauge how long it would take to get through them all.

_Bloody pointless_...

As a liaison between the Qunari and Kirkwall, it fell on Garrett to deal with all issues concerning the former, something Viscount Dumar had taken full advantage of when he realised Garrett wasn't about to skirt his responsibilities like so many others did. Given how Garrett was actually _invested_ in the issue though, he gladly took on those duties to make sure they were done _right_.

The only part he _didn't_ like about it was how it was all growing out of proportion. Petrice and her many followers seemed to have an endless supply of grievances to write up and send in, to make the problems seem like more than they were. By now, if a Qunari so much as showed his face outside their compound, it was to be reported, usually a 'disturbing the peace' or 'inciting unrest' report that Garrett sadly couldn't simply brush aside if he wanted to be taken seriously by all parties.

_What's the point_? _It'll never end_.

Not that _Petrice_ seemed to be ready to take him seriously or back down to open a discussion, she wanted _confrontation_, and whatever Garrett did to relieve tensions, she always seemed to have a counter-stroke ready.

_Endless stacks of paper_..._should put them to the fire_...

Then there was his mother seemingly content to stay in her room all day, doing sewing and other tasks and studiously avoiding eye-contact with him and refusing to speak of Carver. Not to mention Isabela seemingly dropping off the map so Garrett had to divert Varric from finding the Qunari relic to finding the other seeker...

_Bloody women_.

Grumbling, Garrett didn't spot the servant until he was nearly on top of the man, making the noble nearly drop his papers as he staggered back. "Oh for..!"

"Apologies, Serah!" Fenn looked scared of the human, the blond elf hurrying to help Garrett, only to lower his arms as he realised the Fereldian was not about to fall or drop his papers. "I did not realise you hadn't spotted me, I should have coughed, my sincerest apologies."

"Just...probably my fault for being deep in thoughts." Garrett grunted, barely managing to suppress a more hostile, and unfair, choice of words. "What do you want?" Fenn flinched at the human's tone, but Garrett was in no mood for apologies. _Damn people, they act as if they're walking on eggshells around me, it's bloody annoying_...

"Well it seems lady Merrill has somehow gotten into our coat-room and I was wondering-" Fenn's words were turned into a grunt as Garrett pushed the stack of papers into his chest and brushed past the elf. Fenn, sounding puzzled, turned and called out after the noble. "...if we're supposed to see her out and..." Garrett marched towards the hallway, strides long. "...never mind, you'll handle it yourself, I see."

Then Garrett, not sure _what_ he was doing, was through the door and in the coat-room.

He came to a halt.

Before him Merrill was indeed standing, offering an uncertain smile to the equally uncertain-looking guards Darren and Jeannie. She looked..._thinner_, more fragile somehow. Her hair was more tousled than usual, there was something ragged and worn about her, yet..._beautiful_.

The word came to Garrett with such suddenness, he couldn't do anything but blink.

Then she turned her head and spotted him. Her green eyes grew large, her uncertain look fading, replaced by something else. Something fearful, something hurt, something happy, something hopeful...something entirely new.

Garrett stood frozen, seemingly stuck in time...and only the slow movement of the guards as they subtly made an exit betrayed that the world had not gone to a standstill.

Silence.

The two staring at one another from across the room.

"I'm-"

"I'm-"

Garrett bit his tongue, watching Merrill swallow as the two had their words stumble over one another.

Silence.

Merrill staring at him, so many emotions filing her eyes it was a wonder they didn't spill out...

_Beautiful_.

Garrett forced himself to take a step forward, the words tumbling out. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't-"

"No, _I'm_ sorry, I was so _awful_-" Merrill replied, she too taking a step forward.

"I should have considered-"

A step closer.

"I said all those mean things that I didn't mean and-"

Merrill stepped closer.

"Yes, but I could have-"

Another step closer.

"No, no, it was all me and-"

Merrill was close by now, close and...

_Beautiful_. "I was just as...as..." Garrett took half a step forward...and then found himself stopping, realising he couldn't move any further without stepping into Merrill's personal space. He _wanted_ to, he _feared_ to...torn between the strange emotions, he stood there, just in reach of the elf staring up at him with eyes like big mirrors of the inner turmoil he himself was experiencing. "...I'm sorry."

"Me...me too." Merrill meekly managed, the woman tilting her head down and staring at Garrett's chest, her breath shuddering as a rogue strand of her tousled hair fell down in front of her face. She swallowed. "It all got so...stupid...and silly...and...and..." She looked up at him, eyes painfully sincere. "...I never wanted to hurt you, or to...l-lose you..."

Now it was Garrett's turn to swallow, his arm feeling numb and clumsy as it rose, seemingly on its own accord. "I never wanted that either, I..." His fingertips brushed Merrill's cheek, both of them shivering at the contact even as his fingers caught the rogue strand of hair, pushing it back behind her pointed ear as he watched the elf momentarily close her eyes. "...I've missed you."

His hand, just barely touching the back of her head...lingered.

Merrill, refusing to even glance at the hand, leant into it, making more of his palm touch her face as she took a hesitant step forward, the elf seemingly breathless as she gasped. "I...I've mi-missed you too..."

"Th-that's good to..." Garrett swallowed, inching closer._ Why's my heart hammering_...? "S-so...we...we're o-okay then...?"

"Y-yes...v-very..." Merrill replied, her lower lip trembling, eyes wide and breath hitching as she slowly closed. "I'm...I'm glad for th-that..."

"Y-yes, me too..." Garrett's hand had somehow lost itself in Merrill's hair, a scent of sap and grass filling his senses. "_V-very_ glad..."

"Good, it's good to be..." Merrill swallowed, his breath brushing Garrett's face, her head tilting up to look at him as he had somehow gotten so close he could feel the warmth emanating from her. _Maker, what are we doing_? "...glad..."

It felt like Garrett was holding his breath, like he was moving through water, as he slowly leant forward, down, towards _her_.

_Maker, I should_... Garrett's vision filled with Merrill's eyes, then closed as he felt her breath brush against his lips, so close he could almost-

"Serah!" Garrett jumped back, blinking in confusion, waking up from the strange haze that had befallen him. Before him, Merrill was blinking as well, looking as befuddled as him. Then it seemed to dawn on her what had nearly happened, and a look of embarrassment, horror and confusion crossed her face, face flushing red...and Garrett could only guess that his own mimicked hers. _What just_...? "Serah! I...oh, I'm sorry, did I interrupt?"

Garrett turned his head, looking into the doorway where a slightly flushed Bodahn stood, looking terribly nosy yet at the same time sorry for his poor timing. "Of course not, Bodahn..." The assurance was spoken through gritted teeth, the frustration so thick in Garrett's voice even _he_ heard it. _Huh_?_ I didn't want to_..._continue what we were doing, did I_? _That would have been foolish and_..._and_..._no, of course I'm not frustrated, I'm_..._damn that dwarf_. "What is it?"

"Well it's just..." Bodahn looked to Merrill's reddened face, then Garrett's, and whatever flashed behind the dwarf's otherwise innocent eyes made Garrett want to punch him. "...supper is served, and since that means lady Hawke comes out from her room, I thought you'd wish to attend."

"I do, I do..." Garrett grunted, still annoyed and now with a heart thumping with a strange...yearning. "I'll be right with you."

"Very good, Serah." Bodahn bowed, threw Merrill a final glance, something akin to a smile tugging underneath his beard...and then made his escape before Garrett could shoot him a glower.

And so, Garrett and Merrill were _alone_.

"I..."_ Maker, what should I say_? _What should I __do_?! _This is_..._confusing_. "...know that...well..." Garrett winced, having no idea what he was trying to say, nor did he feel capable of turning and _looking_ at the woman. _Get a grip_. A sharp intake of breath, and Garrett turned, the words tumbling out of him. "Would you like to join us for supper?"

Merrill, her hands clutched in front of her chest, stared at him, a storm of conflicting emotions and wants in her eyes. Yet in the end, she smiled, hesitantly, shyly, and nodded. "I'd...love to."

"Good." Before he could think of what he was doing, Garrett offered his hand. _Maker, I should put it back down_!_ No, then she'll think I'm being weird and_..._damn_ _it_!

Merrill stared at the offered hand for but a moment.

Then she took a step forward and slipped hers into his, a shy smile on her lips.

And Garrett's stomach rolled, alive with butterflies.

8

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8

"Step back, bitch!" The warning echoed in the nearly empty warehouse, the call a boom from a broad chest that bounced against what few barrels there were in the dusty old room.

Isabela smirked at the insult, her saunter casual and slow as she eyed the giant of a man standing a good thirty feet away. Dressed in Coterie leathers, as were the rest of the gang, the over seven feet tall bald man cut a striking figure, everything about him speaking of brute strength and power. Those behind him, three men and a woman, didn't look half as intimidating, but their eyes were hard and weapons near as they too eyed the new arrival with looks that told Isabela they were ready to put her body in the harbour in a few seconds if the pirate kept bothering them.

"Hey now, that's no way to greet a lady that's lost and trying to find her way..." Isabela replied, the words making the entire group before her narrow their eyes. _Fine, be like that_. Rolling her eyes, Isabela decided that trying to play with them was of no use. _Dull, these Coterie people_... "Which one of you is Harold?" One of the men at the back, a man of middling height and a trimmed brown beard, narrowed his eyes further. "You? Okay, then I'll make this quick...give me the relic, or point me to where it is."

The man scoffed, and those surrounding him, despite the giant trying to stare Isabela down, chuckled. "What relic?"

Still sauntering closer, uncaring of the growing tension in the giant at the front of the group. "Don't play coy with me, I'm an impatient girl and I know you bought it, and probably sold it, given the gold on that barrel behind you..." The four behind the giant growled as one, putting themselves closer together to block Isabela's view of the gold. Normally, it would have been of interest to the pirate, but right now, her focus was fixed on the face of the man before her. "Tell me to whom you sold it. I'm not playing around here, I _need_ the Tome of Koslun."

Something in her tone made the Coterie man named Harold hesitate, yet as predicted, he then shook his head. "You don't threaten the Coterie, girl. So why don't you walk away while you still have the legs for it?"

"Girl?" Isabela echoed, feigning shock before she looked down at her body. "Do I look like a girl to you...?" When she looked up, her eyes flashed in equal parts threat and teasing. "Now you hurt my feelings and _have_ to tell me who you sold it to, it's the only polite thing to do."

Surprisingly, only two of the Coterie gang had glanced at her body at her teasing, the rest now looked even more hostile, hands having half-drawn their swords and axes. Harold was grimacing, shaking his head. "You're a loon, a complete loon."

Isabela dropped the act, her sweet tone turning venomous, the innocent look on her face turning hard. "I've been trying to find that thing for three _years_ now, and I _will_ have it, so you _better_ cough up an answer, _now_." Ahead, the giant took a step closer, broadsword drawn and raised over his shoulder as he loomed over the Rivaini pirate...who glared up at him. "And you, get out of my way."

A roar, and the Coterie thug attacked. A giant more used to intimidation and posturing than actual fighting, his blow was the hacking slash one would expect of a butcher's apprentice. Too much weight with it, too much of a wind-up, too much arm.

Isabela rolled under the slash with ease, the weight behind it making the giant stumble even before she'd drawn one of her long daggers from her boot and cut his Achilles tendon. The cry of agony from the giant was muffled, more of a whimper, as he dropped his blade and reached back to try and grip the injury, as if that would somehow make it better. "Now..." Isabela rose to her feet with ease, the bloodied dagger stabbing back and finding the side of the thug's neck. "...about that tome..." A gurgle, and the giant fell flat, arterial blood spurting. A_t least I remembered to cut the right side this time so it didn't spray all over me_. Isabela smiled at the remaining Coterie thugs as they stared back, though this time the smile had no teasing in it, no coyness, only the predatory smile of a wolf scenting its prey. "...maybe you should just tell me who you sold it to?"

"Coterie! To me!" Harold drew his sword, the three others following suit with their own weapons. _Woman with axe, man with axe and dagger, another man with sword and shield_..._and little Harold and his sword_..._tsk, all of them have such big and scary weapons_..._ha, I crack myself up_. "You stay back!" The four, standing in a line facing Isabela, slowly spread out, weapons at the ready.

"Bark, bark bark..." Isabela replied, dropping low for just a moment to draw a second dagger from her boot, smile fixed on Harold as she kept sauntering forward. "...you know what they say about toothless dogs, right?" The four exchanged puzzled looks, not used to such brazen calm facing them._ Unsure, off balance, good, I like them like that_... "Give me a name and I'll leave, _boy_."

Crying out in rage, the four raised their weapons and charged.

_Bollocks_.

Rushing to meet them, Isabela moved for the right in the last instance, jumping high with legs spinning in a vicious kick. Her left foot knocked aside the axe of the targeted man before her right caught his nose with a loud crunch and sent him flying towards one of the walls.

Isabela landed on all fours and looked up, spotting Harold, the man having quickly turned to face the swift pirate, swinging his blade down at her skull.

Isabela rolled to the left, letting the blade hammer the ground, the blow making sand dragged in by thousands of dock-workers since time immemorial explode into a cough-inducing cloud, even as her left hand dug into the ground mid-roll, catching up as much of it as possibly. When the man with the sword and the woman rushed to Harold's aid, weapons raised, Isabela's retort was to fling her arm out, throwing the sand at their faces.

The woman caught the worst of it and cried out, eyes squeezing shut even as the man staggered back to avoid the majority of the dirt. Isabela was on the woman in a heartbeat, the dagger in her right hand punching in and out of the Coterie woman's ribcage in three quick jabs before the target could even cry out in pain. The man, roaring in rage, half-blinded, clumsily swung at Isabela with his sword, only to have the pirate shove the woman into the path of the sword, ending her dying breaths prematurely as the large blade cleaved her arm off at the shoulder.

Then Harold was on her again, a horizontal slash coming at her with surprising speed, making the pirate pull in her stomach and jump back to avoid getting gutted.

The man with the sword and buckler, pulling his blade free from the now dead woman, growled a curse as he moved to join Harold, the man Isabela had kicked at the start now also beginning to rise from his momentary slumber. _Fucking hell_...

Isabela dodged and weaved, swaying backwards as the two men stabbed and slashed after her, looking for an opening.

The man with the buckler gave it, his thrust too far, too eager...and Isabela rolled under it, landing at his right flank and thrusting-

_Pain_!

Isabela gasped, the buckler having with surprising deftness shot down to smash into her left shoulder, numbing the limb and sending her dagger flying as Isabela dropped onto her back from the force of the impact. Her foe grinned and begun to turn...and Isabela slammed her right dagger into the back of his knee, making him cry out and tumble onto his back, bloodied leg pouring blood next to Isabela's head.

Harold, growled, gripping his blade with both hands and raising it high as he came at Isabela._ Oh for_...

Isabela did the only thing she could, with her dagger lost in the knee of her foe, she used it to raise his leg over her face, her free hand moving up to grab it by the ankle just as Harold's uncaring swing came down.

The cry of agony of the man having his leg severed was muffled to Isabela's ears as his blood sprayed over her face and chest, a loose limb now in her left hand and the dagger in her right free from what was now a bloodied stump.

Harold's blade, covered in gore, barely pulled back at all as the man lunged with a thrust at the still lying woman...and Isabela grunted as she bashed the thrust aside with the leg still in her left hand before releasing the disgusting limb and rolling onto her feet. _Okay, so maybe I was a little rash in picking a fight here_... In a low crouch, Isabela looked up at the panting Harold as she drew a smaller secondary dagger from her boot with her still tingling left hand.

Behind her, there was a scuffling sound even as Harold's eyes lit up in delight.

_Shit_!

Isabela spun, her eyes wide as her vision was filled with the face of a man with a now broken nose swinging his axe at her with his right hand as the left pulled back his dagger for a following thrust.

Isabela's right blade swung in a hasty parry, the woman's teeth clenching in a hiss of pain as the axe still managed to just cut into the skin of her right shoulder, the haft of the axe slamming into her chest hard enough to make her collar bone shoot up spikes of icy pain into her neck. A second later her left blade shot out, more on instinct and practice than her actually _seeing_ the threat...and struck the man's wrist before he could manage to slam his dagger into her gut.

The man, gasping, staggered against Isabela...who with a groan shoved him back, her parrying right blade turning into a thrusting riposte that caught the man's right eye and turned it into a gory mess.

A sigh, and the man fell onto his back, pulling the dagger still stuck in his wrist with him.

_Shiiiit_...

Isabela shook her head, cobwebs filling it from the close encounter with death, then spun around, only vaguely recalling the last threat.

Harold stood frozen though, staring at her, then at the bodies littering the floor, the sword in his hand shaking. Isabela, out of breath, bruised, exhausted...raised her dagger and faked a smirk. "Now...the name, please?" The man looked up at her, eyes wide...and took a step back. "Come on, don't make this difficult, the _name_!" Isabela's face contorted into one of fury.

Harold cried out, turned...and stumbled on one of the dead men.

"NO!" Isabela ran forward, all colour draining from her face as she watched Harold's back facing her, the tip of a dagger sticking out of it, his blood covering it. "Shit! Shit! Shit! You fucking idiot!" Tossing aside her dagger, Isabela crouched down next to the man and rolled him onto his side, watching him stare in mute horror at the dagger of one of his fallen companions stuck in his chest, the blood already pooling around him from the massive wound. "How stupid can you...I would have let you go!" Isabela grabbed the man's shoulder, shaking him, the dimness already in them frightening her. "No! Don't go! Tell me! Where's the Tome of Koslun! _Who_ has it!? I _must_ know!"

The man opened his mouth to answer, but only blood poured out, his lips becoming still a moment later as the eyes continued to dim, unheeding of Isabela's shakes.

"Tell me!"

There was no answer.

Isabela, hand moving up to pull her blood-soaked hair back, felt her hands shaking in panic as her trace literally died in front of her. _Shit, shit, sh_-

Then, a new voice spoke, demanding and foreboding. "Yes, where _is_ the Tome?"

_Shiiiiiit_!

Feeling the day turn from bad to terrifying, Isabela slowly turned, eyes wide.

The Qunari pushing their way through another passage were six in number and all muscle as their kin were wont to be. Isabela stared at them for but a moment, then looked over to the doorway from whence she'd come- "Bas, _halt_." The order was rapt and _demanded_ obedience. "Do not think about it." Looking back, Isabela found two of the Qunari holding javelins at the ready, raised and poised for a deadly throw.

With the sting of those massive missiles still all too familiar, Isabela found her shoulders slump in defeat. _Too tired, fuck, and those guys are no Coterie fools_. "What do you want?"

"You mentioned the tome of Koslun, you fought the other Bas over it, you are seeking it as we are." The Qunari that spoke looked like all the others, but he was the only one with a drawn sword, the others content to glare down at the puny human crouching before them. "But you are _not_ Viddathari, not of the Qun." The Qunari leader cocked his head to the side. "So why do you seek it?"

"It's worth a lot of money." Isabela replied. It wasn't a lie, yet it wasn't the truth either, the truth would have her dead in seconds, or worse.

The Qunari scowled in disapproval, the idea of cash still foreign and disgusting to his kin, despite their long exposure to the rest of the world. Yet it was not he who spoke, but one of the ones holding a javelin. "Sten, I believe this is the thief. The one who took the tome of Koslun."

Isabela's eyes widened in horror even as the Qunari leader cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowing. "You might be-"

"Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous."As one, everyone looked to the new voice, this one coming from the doorway Isabela had used a little while ago. "What, do all Rivaini look alike to you people now? I do believe that's racism."

_Varric_!?

The dwarf, calmly walking into the room, held his arms wide, Bianca safely strapped to his back as he smiled at the Qunari like they were old friends. "I didn't think that was the Qunari way."

"Humans are hard to tell apart for Kossith, this is not racism, but _fact_." The Sten replied, unfazed by the new arrival. "But the description of the thief was thorough, and the Karasaad is correct, she matches it well." The Qunari looked back to Isabela, open disgust in his eyes. "We'll take her to the Arishok." A cold tremor ran down Isabela's spine. _Death from Castillon is almost preferable, if the stories I've heard are true_...

Varric was faster though, something in his casual tone halting the Qunari about to advance on the bloodied woman. "_That_ would be a bad idea."

The Sten cocked his head to the side, eyeing the dwarf with an arched eyebrow. "And why is this?"

"Because this woman is under the protection of Hawke." Varric calmly replied, all smiles. "And Hawke is the Arishok's only ally in this city, and one worthy of respect according even to him. To take her would be to not trust Hawke's word..."

The Sten took a step back, forehead wrinkling into a deep frown. "Hawke _is_ Basalit-an, but..." The Qunari looked back to Isabela, something in his eyes flashing, then back to the seemingly calm Varric. _Maker knows how he manages to look like it though, I know him, and I sense the tension beneath_... "This will be reported to the Arishok, but Basalit-an must be respected..." A shake of his head and the Sten shot Isabela another glance. "...for now."

"Sten?" Another of the Qunari spoke up, a hint of disapproval in his voice, but it was respectful none the less. "What now?"

"We continue our search." The Sten replied, gaze still darting between Varric and Isabela, his tone making clear who he was _truly_ speaking to. "And we _will_ find it."

With that the Qunari turned and marched back through the doorway they'd come from, none looking back, their heavy steps sure and calm.

When they'd left, Varric closed his eyes, fingers moving as he counted to ten.

_Uhhh_...?

"You're crazy." Varric opened his eyes and looked to Isabela. There was sympathy in his eyes, anger too, but mostly sympathy. "I don't know why you're doing this, or how you thought going at this alone was a good idea, but it stops now." He cocked his head to the side. "You're trying to get the tome for yourself, aren't you...? Why?" Isabela couldn't meet his gaze, lowering hers and sighing in defeat as she felt the blood in her hair stick to her scalp and neck. "Come on, we can't help you if...you're going to get yourself killed."

"Don't tell Hawke?" Isabela hated how thin her voice sounded, and awkwardly forced herself to shoot Varric a pleading look. "If he finds out...he'll give it to the Qunari, he'll...I don't..."

"I know, he'll do what he deems right, and that's probably not in your interests." Varric nodded, sympathy still there as he sighed. "But...I kind of have to, Rivaini. I do have to...I know as well as Garrett what a danger we're sitting on and I can't in good conscience not tell him."

"He'll, he'll..."

"I'll help you, speak on your behalf." Varric offered it, as always, without hesitation. _Bloody good friend, unlike_..._Maker_... Isabela looked away, shamed. "We'll _work this out_, okay?"

Isabela looked up, finding Varric smiling down at her, hand reaching down offering to help her up.

"Sure." Isabela, disgusted with herself, feigned a smile and took the hand, hoisting herself to her feet. "It'll all work out..."

_Maker, I really am going to die_...

8

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8

_Thanks to Abydos Jackson, for the sand in my shoes._


	61. Chapter 61

Garrett truly looked like a Viscount at the moment.

Or maybe a more rough, Ferelden-style, ruler.

The desk he sat behind, resting his interlocked hands on, was a solid thing dominating his office, everything about it bearing his mark. Orderly stacks of papers and rolls of scrolls covering much of it, quill and ink to the right of his hands, a letter opener and a seal bearing his seal on their left. It spoke of a heavy work-load, yet one under control, done in an orderly fashion, no short-cuts allowed, no mistakes allowed.

The man himself, dressed in dark trousers and a light white shirt to deal with the oppressive heat, bore no signs of wealth save a single golden ring on his right finger, which itself was more of a second seal than an actual decoration. While not cleanly shaved, everything else of him spoke of a man of discipline. From the way he sat to the way he hadn't moved a muscle during the time he'd had the story of what had transpired at the docks told to him. Disapproval was in the air, yet mixed with an air of authority that had grown ever stronger around the man during the years. His eyes, brown and hard as ironbark, simply reinforced the image, it was the eyes of one who listened...and then spoke and expected to be listened _to_.

Sitting in one of the two chairs at the other side of the desk, Isabela felt small under his scrutiny.

_Maker, that man could curdle dairy with a glower_...

"You've known what the Qunari have been looking for this entire time." It wasn't a question, yet Isabela nodded anyway. "In fact, you were the one who took it and then lead them here." Another nod. "And when I hired you to look for it, offered my resources to find it, you went ahead and looked for it with information you yourself held as well, without telling us about it, so you could steal away with it, yes? That about sums it up?" A third, pained, nod.

Next to her, in the other chair, Varric shifted in his seat.

"So tell me then..." Garrett's wide shoulders rose as he leant forward, eyes cold. "...why shouldn't I clap you in irons and send you to the Arishok?"

Isabela felt a chill run down her spine. Her mouth moving, but no answer coming. Instead it was Varric who spoke up, a protest in his tone. "_Garrett_..."

Garrett raised a hand, commanding silence. "No, Varric, I want to hear _her_ answer." His eyes bore into Isabela's, nailing her to her chair as efficiently as any rope.

"I...I'm sorry, alright? I didn't-"

"_Not good enough_." Garrett didn't raise his voice, didn't growl or glare, yet the words struck Isabela like a punch to the gut. "We are _not_ friends, you're a friend to some of mine, but _we_ are not, do _not_ try to evoke sympathy with me, Isabela. _Especially_ not in light of what you've done, which is to endanger me _and_ all my friends." The man leant forward ever so slightly, mouth a thin line. "Now I'm being reasonable and giving you a chance to give me a reason not to offer you to the Arishok on a platter. But you give me a reason, a _good_ one, or we're done here."

For a split second, Isabela felt her muscles tense, fingers itching to reach down for the daggers in her boots. To _run_, to fight her way free, to _flee_. Yet Garrett was looking at her, his eyes narrowing...and Isabela felt the urge die as suddenly as if someone had drenched a fire with a bucket of icy water. She could take him, she _knew_ she could...up close and personal, with Garrett out of armour and Varric with Bianca strapped securely to his back, Isabela would easily overpower them both and make a run for it.

Yet she didn't, and not _just_ because something in Garrett's eyes told her she would come to regret such an action, but because everything about him seemed to forbid it. _Maker damn it, when did he become so scary_...?

Finally, Isabela found her voice. "I...I have more information, information that could help you find the Tome. I...could help you find it-"

"You _have_ to be jok-"

"I have connections! Ones that you, even with your vast network, don't! You'll still find me useful!" Isabela hurried to say, a bead of cold sweat running down her spine as she stared into Garrett's suspicious eyes. "You don't have to trust me, but you know that this is true! _Fact_!"

Garrett stared at her.

His face showed nothing but disapproval and suspicion, her death-sentence seemingly hanging on his lips.

Isabela, taking a shuddering breath, struggled not to wipe off the sweat covering her forehead or to look away, _willing_ Garrett to believe her, to take the risk the man she knew never would.

The moment stretched on for seconds, then minutes...

_Maker, I don't know if you can hear me, but if_-

Garrett interrupted her thoughts with a sudden turn of his head, cold eyes drifting to the other one in the room. "Varric?"

"Her information and help _would_ be useful, bud." Varric replied, the wonderful dwarf keeping his tone neutral as Isabela shot him a grateful look, one he didn't return, his eyes on Garrett. "Frankly, we're almost out of leads here, and I don't have the same instincts Isabela does, her methods would complement mine." The dwarf shrugged. "It's your call, but I can keep a close watch on her, if that's the way you want to play it."

A non-committal grunt escaped Garrett at the answer as he turned his gaze back to Isabela, his elbows coming to rest on his desk as he rested his chin on his clasped hands. _Viscount in all but name_. Isabela had heard that whispered on the streets, but it was another thing _seeing_ it. _Dumar better watch himself_..._not that that'll matter if he sends me to the Qunari_! Isabela swallowed, unable to even _try_ to hide the sign of fright.

"Also, one other thing, I hesitate to mention it..." Varric muttered, sounding unsure even as Isabela sensed the opposite. _You know exactly what you're doing, you card-player_...

Garrett took the bait though, one eyebrow arched as he kept his gaze on Isabela. "Yes?"

"Well, you've been very strict when it comes to enforcing _jurisdictions_..." Varric cleared his throat even as the corner of Garrett's eyes twitched, the man already understanding what the dwarf was getting to as Isabela listened intently. "The Qunari, converts and Kossith both, aren't to be touched, and they're not to touch _our_ citizen, it keeps the peace. Isabela has stayed here long enough to be called a Kirkwall citizen though, and Petrice and her people are already protesting about the Qunari being untouchable by Kirkwall law. What do you think will happen if you send one of ours to them?"

Garrett, not taking his eyes of Isabela, nor moving, sighed as she felt the first flutter of hope in her chest.

"Of course, you _could_ take her to the Viscount for sentencing..." What!? Isabela whipped her head around, staring at Varric in horror. The dwarf ignored her though, eyes on Garrett. "...although I don't think either our people or the Qunari would like that. The Qunari barely tolerate the jurisdiction-rule as it _is_, if they got to know we hold the one who took their sacred relic, however..." A grunt and a shrug. "As for our own...well I'm sure you could handle them, but I'm just concerned that when it's revealed that one they might view as _your_ people is the reason for the Qunari being here...well, it might get ugly."

Garrett hesitated, forehead wrinkling into a frown. "I could simply tell them that I didn't-"

"Ah yes, the reasonable answer, that _always_ works with them." Varric's voice was heavy with sarcasm, yet then lightened up as he shrugged. "Still, your call, I'm just _saying_..."

"I know what you're saying." Garrett sighed, hands dropping back down onto the table, scowl aimed at Isabela, then Varric, then back to Isabela as it turned irritated. "Maker, you're annoying."

"Only when I'm right." Varric replied with a chuckle. "Which is...all the time, I admit. It's a heavy burden, I know, but I soldier on."

Isabela was too scared to smile, yet to her surprise one flickered across Garrett's features before he re-affixed his scowl on Isabela. "I don't like it." _W-wait, are they actually_...? _Did Varric just manage to_...?

"What's there to like?" The dwarf shrugged.

"_Fine_." Garrett grunted, shaking his head as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Isabela, you're going to be sticking with Varric _and_ a number of people of his choosing at _all_ times now."

_All times_!? Isabela opened her mouth in protest, then turned her head away from Garrett's scowl. "Okay."

"I didn't ask your permission." Garrett growled back. "I'm telling you what _will_ happen." _Asshole_..._who just spared my life_. Isabela shuddered in relief even as the thought of always being watched, guarded like a prisoner, her _freedom_ removed, made her want to retch. "You _will_ help Varric find the Tome of Koslun, you _will_ bring it to me, and after that, if things go smoothly, I _might_ let you walk away from this mess of yours without further consequence."

_Except for the consequence of Castillion killing me_... Isabela bowed her head though, too grateful for the respite from the hangman's noose to protest, her voice a whisper. "I...thank you."

"You're welcome. Now, on to actually _finding_ the tome, you said-"

Behind her, there was a tap on the door, and just as Isabela turned her head, she saw one of the servants, a blond elf, poke his head in. "I'm sorry to disturb, Serah, but you wanted me to alert you when lady Merrill was coming?"_Ah, so she __did__ come here_! _The little minx hadn't told me_!

Isabela turned back to Garrett...and blinked at the sight of the man's change of disposition. His frown was gone, replaced by a wide smile, his cold eyes warming like one had put frozen wood near a fire, even his _voice_ seemed lighter and even somewhat _bubbly_. "Excellent, thank you, Fenn. Take her to the library, will you? I'll be there in a moment." He turned his gaze back to Isabela and Varric, the man visibly struggling to look serious and clamping down on an unmistakable eagerness as he spoke. "We'll have to do this later...err...in fact...Varric, you go through this with Isabela and then let me know your plans and such later?"

"Sounds like a plan." Varric replied, humour in his voice as he shot Isabela a smirk.

"Yeah, that'll work." Isabela agreed, fear replaced by amusement as she noticed how Garrett was practically jumping in his seat in eagerness to leave. "Though maybe we should stay here and at least make _some_ plans...?"

Garrett shot her a horrified look, as she'd just caught him between his sense of duty and what he _really_ wanted to do...but Varric was faster, chuckling. "Don't be mean Isabela...it's no problem, Garrett, we'll see ourselves out and work this out, I'll talk to you later."

"Excellent, good, perfect." The man, moments ago a Viscount in all but name, now seemed more like a boy as he rose from his seat, marched around the table and offered Isabela and Varric both a firm but _very fast_ handshake. "I'll see you both later then."

A moment later he was gone, the dignity of his station apparently forgotten in his rush to go 'reading'.

For a moment, Isabela just sat there.

Then she looked to Varric.

Who looked back, a smirk on his lips.

A moment later they were laughing, Isabela's laugh as much as one of relief as one of amusement.

8

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8

_I should turn the page_.

Garrett was sitting in his library, open book in his lap, staring at the page he was on.

_I don't normally sit with one page for this long_. _She'll know something is wrong_.

He stared at the text, but unable to focus, couldn't quite read the actual words.

_On the other hand, if I turn it, I'll have no idea what I'm reading anymore_..._what was the book about, anyway_?

It was odd, but while he'd missed his reading sessions with Merrill something fierce, he now, when he had one, couldn't focus on it. Instead he was sitting there, struggling not to shift about in awkwardness, a lump in his throat and a tightness in his chest and eyes so glazed it reminded him of how Carver had been during studies with their father.

Though Carver was currently _far_ from his mind, his eyes only glazed when looking at the book.

When they glanced to his right though, they were_ well awake_.

Across the table holding untouched wine and cheese, Merrill was sitting.

She had her legs pulled up close to her chest, supporting the book she was reading, her eyes fixed on the text as her teeth worried at her bottom lip. She wasn't wearing her usual armour, but instead a simple dress any odd commoner in the city might wear. In fact, she'd arrived without armour more and more frequently since their talk. It was probably nothing, but Garrett liked to think she no longer felt it was needed around him. _I miss how the armour looks on her legs though_... Garrett blinked and looked away, eyes wide._ I did not just think that_.

_This is ridiculous_. He shot the elf another glance, watching her stare intently at the page in her book, as if trying to bore a hole through it with her gaze. _Maker, she's pretty though_... His chest tightened even further at the thought before he looked away. _No, be rational about this, Garrett, think it through, you're being stupid_.

There was a tension in the room though, one Garrett felt pressing into him, yet feared dispelling, not sure what would happen if he tried. His throat itched, wanting to be cleared, yet he dared not.

_Oh right, the book_. Garrett turned his gaze back to the page, staring at the indecipherable text with growing frustration.

Then the door opened.

Garrett jumped in his seat. As did Merrill, a small squeak of fright escaping her as they both turned to look at the doorway.

On the other side, Leandra was standing, much to Garrett's surprise. The woman was smiling at him, Maric sitting on his haunches next to her, letting her rest a hand on his head. "Hey dear, just letting you know I'm taking Maric for a long walk, maybe some shopping too."

"Ah, well that's...nice." Garrett replied, both irritated with the interruption as well as relieved to hear the woman was actually going outside her room. The dinner with him, her and Merrill seemed to have done her good for some reason, given her her smile back. "Be careful."

"Always am, going to take Fenn and Bastile with me, oh and Bodahn and Sandal too. Could use a few helping hands if I decide to make it a long shopping tour. Whatever I decide, don't expect me back for, oh I don't know, a good number of hours..." Leandra's smile twitched, amusement flickering in her eyes as she shot Merrill a glance. "Just so you both know."

Garrett coughed awkwardly, the back of his neck burning. "Thank you, _mother_, that's _fine_, I think we'll manage."

"Oh and Gamlen left, not sure where, since I gave him some money, he too might be gone for a good while." _Oh for_... Garrett, cheeks flushed, struggled to look at her mother as she smirked. "And I've put the servants on cleaning up the garden after that storm, the gardener could use the help and they're not really needed in here right now, so...just so you know."

Garrett didn't know if he should be shouting at his mother or hide somewhere, so instead he gritted his teeth and looked away, unable to face that smirk of hers. "Thank you, mother, that'll be all."

"Oh and I know how much you like to sit and read in privacy, so I've ordered Orana to ask any visitors to come back later and for any mail to be-"

"I _get it_, thank you, mother..." Garrett grimaced, he hadn't been so embarrassed since the day he'd been caught comparing bodies with Bethany in a lake at age eight, and that had been something _innocent_.

_Which this is too, of course, perfectly innocent, we're just reading_... In the doorway, he could _feel_ Leandra's smirk. "Sorry, sorry, just letting you know...well, I should get to it then, day's young and so am I...so to speak." With that, the door, mercifully, clicked shut.

_Thank the Maker_. Garrett couldn't help to breathe a sigh of relief. _Finally, some peace and quiet, alone_..._with_ _Merrill_... Like that, the relief was gone, replaced by a burning anxiety and a tension returning tenfold in strength. _Damn it_.

He couldn't help himself, he stole a glance at Merrill, only to catch her glancing at him as well, making him cough in embarrassment even as her face turned an even darker shade of crimson than it had already been. "Well that was...interesting. I'm sorry about mother, I've got no idea why she'd have to spell out what she's doing all of a sudden."

"It's okay." Merrill replied, voice small but smile honest. "I like her, she was really nice when we had dinner with her..." The elf swallowed and looked away. "Kept asking me about my hips though..."

_Of course she did_. Garrett, turning red, looked away as well, glazed eyes returning to the book in his lap. "It's just..." He coughed, knowing all too well that Merrill was no dummy and knew perfectly well why Leandra would ask such things. "...her way, she doesn't mean anything with it."

A little hum escaped Merrill at that, but nothing more.

And so, silence descended upon them once more.

A _tense_ silence.

Only broken by the infernal clock as its ticking suddenly seemed to rise in volume in tandem with the growing tension.

Tick.

Tick.

**Tock**.

_Maker, deliver me from this agony_... Garrett squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, struggled to contain the loud beating of his own heart even as the clock hammered at his ears.

Tick.

Tick.

**Tock**!

Something was building in him, a pressure, as if his blood was moving faster than it should, making him light-headed yet acutely aware of everything around him at the same time.

Of the little hitch in Merrill's shallow breaths.

Of the way she shuffled in her seat.

Of her fingertips caressing the paper of her book

Tick!

Tick!

**Tock**!

_I hate you, clock, I hate you so much_. Garrett couldn't really focus on it though, his ears thumping with the sound of his own heartbeat, his mouth dry as a desert, palms sweaty. _Maker, feels like I'm getting sick_...

TICK.

TICK.

**TOCK**.

_Maker, I can't take this much longer_! Garrett's chest was impossibly tight, making it nearly impossible to breathe. The air around him seemed to bear down on him, his heart thumping hard, demanding action...his whole body tingling with want. Want for something, _anything_, to relieve the pressure building up within him. _Okay, calm down, there's no need to_..._Maker_, _damn_ _it_..._I want, I want_... He swallowed, the book in his hands creaking as his hands gripped it tighter in frustration.

**TICK**.

**TICK**.

**TOCK**!

_Argh_!

Garrett flew to his feet, the book in his lap crashing to the floor even as he spun around to face Merrill...only to find the elf on her feet as well, eyes wide as she stared at him, chest heaving with exertion like his own, as if they'd just been out running.

Garrett opened his mouth, but no words left it, the sight of the woman before him stealing his breath away.

Merrill too, tried to speak, but no words escaped her either as she slowly shook her head, her eyes widening.

Silence, _unbearable_ silence, bore down on them.

_I should_...

Suddenly, Garrett's legs were taking him forward.

Ahead, Merrill was striding forth as well, _fast_.

The impact as the two met knocked the breath out of Garrett. Being bigger and heavier, he drove Merrill backwards even as she continued to press into him with all her might.

His arms wound around her waist, his hands moving up to roam her back even as he own arms found his neck, slim limbs wrapping around it like vines.

Their lips almost missed one another, then mashed together, a low whimper escaping Merrill as Garrett growled in frustration, wanting _more_.

Then Merrill parted her lips, making Garrett do the same...

_Maker_!

The two's groan of pleasure was almost lost in the room as Merrill's back slammed into a bookshelf, pinning Garrett's arms behind her as he, instinctively, pressed closer, his larger stature forcing her upwards and unto her toes.

With his fingers digging into her back, then hair, Garrett kissed her.

The world came to a stop.

Then rushed back, the two pulling their lips back, gasping for breath.

_Maker, what did I just_...? Garrett lowered his head, struggling with the storm raging within him. "W-we should stop, we-"

Merrill's left arm released his neck, her hand coming down to grip his chin, to force it up.

She kissed him, tongue darting against his...and Garrett's world spun on its axis.

Garrett's hands, sliding down, frustrated with the need to dip his head, gripped the elf by her thighs and lifted her up, making her lips release his as a gasp escaped her. "Y-yes...we sh-should...t-talk..." Her breath brushed Garrett's ear as her lips, then _teeth_, found his jaw, making him shudder in pleasure.

"Th-this is a bad idea..." Garrett sighed, pressing up against Merrill, pinning her to the bookshelf as his hands left her thighs and slipped further up, the rough texture of her dress frustrating him as he felt the smoothness just beneath.

"Y-yes!" Merrill's gasp was as much agreement as it was a cry of pleasure, the woman bucking against him, the body under her dress impossibly warm, a warmth washing over Garrett in waves as his hands squeezed into her flesh. "I-I'm of the pe-people a-and m-must not...!" Her legs, betraying her words, wrapped themselves around Garrett's waist.

"I'm noble, you're- Maker!" Garrett gasped, the cold of the air around them almost painful as Merrill's hands slipped down between them and pulled open his shirt. "You're...a..." His words trailed off, the feeling of the elf's hands on his bare chest sending tingles of electricity down his spine. "...a..."

"E-exactly..." Merrill agreed, legs tightening around Garrett as she pulled and tugged at his shirt to widen the opening. "Th-this is too da-dangerous-by Mythal!" Garrett's left hand, following Merrill's example, moved up, pulled apart the bodice of her dress and slipped inside. _So soft_... Merrill tilted her head back, voice a whimper. "W-we m-must st-stop..."

Garrett, head spinning, could only grunt. "Yes..." Dipping his head, his lips followed his hand, the smell of Merrill putting him in a daze as his lips caught a nipple.

"By Elgar'nan!" Merrill bucked, hard, nearly knocking Garrett and her both over as her hands dug into Garrett's hair, pulling him closer even as he pulled her bodice fully open, lips and hand exploring even as his remaining hand slipped down...and then in under her dress, the soft skin of her leg flexing in reaction to his sweeping touch. "I...we...we...th-this is b-bad...we...we m-must..." A sigh. "I...nuevin...nuevin na..."

The dalish words whispered into his ear just made Garrett buck back against the woman, his exploring hand finally reaching her rear once more, but this time without any barriers. "S-stop...y-yes, th-this will o-only le-lead to-" He muffled his own words, lips sliding up to trail kisses up along Merrill's slim throat as his hand squeezed a breast.

Merrill, whimpering, shivering, slipped a hand down his chest, dalish words tumbling out of her. "N-nuevin n-na...na..." A mutter, unmistakaebly a curse. "Na a-assan." The hand slipped lower, tugging, pulling, _demanding_. "Sa-sahlin...na assan sahlin!" Garrett groaned...and then froze, feeling her hand free him from his trousers, then her fingers around him, gentle but demanding.

_M-Maker_...

He looked up, finding Merrill's eyes alight with desire as she met his gaze, her lips moving in a soft whisper as her hand gripped him tighter. "Nuevin na assan sahlin..."

Garrett, trembling with pleasure, thrust forward, letting her hand guide him as he held her gaze, unable to speak, fearing to break the spell of madness over them.

As one, the two shuddered at first contact...and then Merrill's head rolled back with a sigh as Garrett squeezed his eyes shut. _Maker, she's so warm and_... Merrill's legs tightened around him, and Garrett thrust forth.

As one, they gasped.

8

8

8

_Thank you to Abydos Jackson for putting up with stuff like this._


	62. Chapter 62

"Hey, Hawke, I think you've got a little...elf on you."

"Oh, sorry." Garrett didn't look sorry, he looked a little _embarrassed_ perhaps, but not sorry.

Merrill, sitting in his lap, looked even more embarrassed with her peach-coloured face, yet apparently she wasn't embarrassed enough to get off, her thin arms instead just winding tighter around the man's neck. "Yes, sorry, I...it's _comfyyyy_...I'd hate to make you awkward though."

Isabela snickered, waving her hand in front of her as she took a little sip from her glass. "No-no, no awkwardness here, it's just...well bloody funny, to be honest."

Garrett eyebrows narrowed in a momentary scowl. "Are you making fun of us?"

Isabela, unsure how much she could prod the man already disliking her, but right now likely in a very good mood, looked around herself for support.

The table held the whole old gang and more, even Fenris and Anders had shown up...so had Gamlen, but Isabela knew to take the good with the bad. With all seated around the table, there was a general sense of humour in the room, a light-heartedness that was usually more difficult to get when at a dinner with Garrett right from the start, but this time it had come as natural as water. _Merrill's doing that, I bet, she's got Garrett disarmed and unable to keep us serious_..._hehe_...

Anders and Fenris were, of course, disapproving of the signs of affection, the mage apparently set on ignoring it as he ate and spoke to a surprisingly healthy-looking Samson in quiet voices. Fenris, sitting next to Isabela, had instead elected to only shoot the odd scowl at the couple and otherwise resigned himself to brood into his glass, as if the red content somehow held some great answer for him. _Silly, but Maker, it does make him look all mysterious and handsome_...

Varric, leaning back in his chair as always, was smiling, something soft in his eyes, a look mimicked in Aveline's eyes, even Donnic looked somewhat taken with the picture of the couple at the head of the dinning table. Gamlen, of course, mostly kept his gaze on Isabela's chest, but even _he_ shot the elf and human the odd glance, the look on his face a strange mixture of disgust and amusement.

Next to the couple, hands in her lap, Leandra sat...and the old woman's face was practically glowing with a proud smile. _Well I'll be_..._didn't think the bat liked Merrill all that much, but now that she's her son's baby-maker, the old woman loves her_?_ I suppose that after that Cecei mess, she'll gladly take whatever she can get, huh_?

It was Varric who finally stepped in to rescue Isabela. "Doubt it, Garrett, it's just...nice to see, I think she means."

The human blinked, puzzled. "What do you mean, nice?"

Merrill's face split into a grin as she leant closer, voice hushed, but loud enough to carry across the table as she slid a hand into Garrett's hair. "Nice to see you smile, for one..."

The words and actions of the elf instantly made the human grin, his protest lacking heat. "Well, I have been known to-" Merrill kissed him, stopping his words mid-flow, and the man wasn't slow to kiss her back, the arms around her waist pulling her closer, as if fearing she'd fall off. _New lovers are always the worst_..._they get so ridiculously affectionate_. Isabela rolled her eyes, grateful she'd never have to deal with such things, as did most across the table besides Leandra who just grinned a little wider, mind no doubt already full of imaginary new Hawkes running around.

Finally, the pair separated, Merrill's eyes sparkling with mischievousness. "Also, it's nice when-" She never finished, Garrett's lips finding hers again as the man did the thing most contrary to his personality, the _impulsive_.

"Awwww!" The sound exploded from Isabela – much to her shame – and Aveline both, the former looking to the later and surprisingly finding the guardswoman shooting her something close to a friendly look. _Wow, I've been here too long_. Isabela shifted uncomfortably at that, knowing what she would have to do, to _try_, despite Varric and whoever he might bring with him. _I'm fast, I can make it, I can_..._leave_ _them – I mean this place_. The thought was a relief, exciting, yet...Isabela didn't much care for the undercurrent of doubt in the back of her mind. _Bloody hell, I'm getting soft, need a hard deck under my feet again_.

"Oh for goodness sake, boy, are you eating her alive or something?" Gamlen groused, though with an almost friendly glint in his eyes. "The rest of us here are trying to have a _meal_."

Garrett and Merrill pulled apart once more, Garrett looking away with a uncharacteristic soft smile as Merrill shot the man's uncle a surprisingly scathing look that was somewhat ruined by her heavy breathing and red face._ I know those two are just a bad situation waiting to happen_..._but damn they're cute, puppy love_. _Wonder if they've fucked yet_?_ I b__et they have __and__ I bet it was awkward_. _I have to ask Merrill about that, I know she'll __ache__ to spill all the details after two big cups of cider_.

Fortunately for Gamlen, Merrill didn't get time to respond as Varric spoke up. "If you'd like, I can get my violin, play some romantic music, sing...?"

Garrett and Merrill exchanged a look at that, Garrett's doubtful, Merrill's giddy...and it was the human who first looked away and over to Varric, an exasperated sigh escaping him even as there was a smile in his eyes. "Maybe later." The answer made Merrill practically jump in the man's lap in badly concealed excitement. "And thank you." _Maker, be careful Garrett, or Merrill will wrap you around her little finger without even knowing it_. The thought nearly made Isabela snicker aloud.

"Well...here's to new love." Aveline raised her glass.

"And to older ones." Donnic agreed, raising his own and giving Aveline a look, his hand finding her free one and squeezing it, making her smile back and give him a little peck on the lips.

Watching Merrill and Garrett smile at that, a lump suddenly in her throat, Isabela raised her own. "I'll drink to that." _Going to miss you all_.

There was a mutter of agreements as the rest raised their glasses as well before moving to drink.

_Ah well, if I'm going to leave, I better get this over with or I'll end up regretting it, and I hate regret_... As laughter and talking once more began to drift across the table, Isabela moved a hand down, brazenly putting it on Fenris' thigh and letting it slide up high. The elf, true to form, didn't react at first, and when he did it was merely by looking at her with an arched eyebrow and a smirk, a look Isabela eagerly returned in kind.

_Might as well go out with a bang, eh_?

8

8

8

_Eugh, I shouldn't be here_. Garrett grumbled, marching down the street in Lowtown with long strides, dressed in his leather armour and wanting to get the latest crisis over and done with so he could take it off. _I should be in bed, with Merrill_... The thought sent a warm tingle down his spine, Garrett was still unfamiliar with how such relationships worked, as was Merrill, but so far they had had a _very_ good time finding out.

It was...exciting.

_But instead I'm here_..._bloody hell, I take it a little easier for a mere week and people get at each other's throats_..._how did they survive without me_? Next to him, Maric was marching with head held high, the dog cautionary, sniffing at the air, strangely on edge. _Meanwhile Merrill's waiting at home, and if she kept her promise, naked in bed_..._Maker, let this be over quick_! Garrett's strides lengthened as the torture his imagination played on him egged him on. Around him, his six chosen guards glanced at him in confusion, then exchanged knowing smirks, making him scowl at them. _One word and you'll get only night shifts for a bloody month_...

Still, he couldn't be angry with them, he couldn't even be angry with having been dragged from his home for yet another thankless job in making Petrice and her cronies move along. In fact, anger and irritation was _hard_ to hold on to, his body wanting him to have a spring in his step, a smile on his lips. It was silly, intoxicating and amazing, all at the same time._ Maker, miss her already_.

As he marched on in the permanent stench of Lowtown, all Garrett smelled was sap and grass and Merrill's skin. His steps automatically took him towards the Qunari enclave, allowing his mind to drift to more pleasant places.

_I miss the taste of her lips, of her skin, of her nectar_...

_I miss the feel of her touch, of her skin, of her muscles playing under m_e...

_Maker, I want to feel her writhe under me as I_-

A snicker made Garrett blink and shake his head, shooting Jeannie and Darren an annoyed glance as they brazenly made fun of whatever look had been on their lord's face. _Oh you think I'm funny, do you_? _Well I'll_..._oh_ _dear_. Garrett instantly forgot about his annoyance and even the memories of his latest carnal activities as his gaze swept the scene before him, the sound of Maric growling reverberating through him.

The Qunari compound was under siege. What had to be hundreds of people were holding up various weapons, tools and even torches as they bayed at the empty walls towering over them. At the head of the throng, more brazen than ever, Petrice stood, holding up a copy of the 'Chant of Light' and shouting the verses. "Let the blade pass through the flesh! Let my blood touch the ground! Let my cries touch their hearts! Let mine be the last sacrifice!"

Garrett, having approached from the dockside due to having run another errand first, was now glad for that since the crowd was held back from that side of the street by a painfully thin line of guardsmen. More importantly, given the danger posed by the crowd, this held the fanatics away from the gate to the compound. _The guardsmen are carrying spears, they only do that when things are serious_...

Garrett looked for Aveline, and easily spotted her just behind the thin line of guardsmen. She had seen him as well and was coming towards him, a grim look on her face, sword drawn and her steps visibly tense. Even as she came closer, Petrice's voice rang over the street, the baying crowd at her back reinforcing every syllable. "Blessed are they who stand before the wicked and corrupt and do not falter! Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just!" _Well aren't you being delightfully ironic_?

Garrett turned to Aveline as she brushed past his guards. "What's going on here, Captain?"

"What does it look like? It's a sermon at the Chantry gone terribly wrong..." Aveline glanced back at Petrice and her cohort.

"Blessed are the righteous! The light in the shadows! In their blood, the Maker's will is written!"

"...or _right_, depending on who you ask." Aveline looked back to Garrett with a grimace, her head tilting closer as she muttered. "There's been a lot of public disorder this last hour, so the guards I have here are all that were available...funny how that coincided with Petrice's little sermon, huh?" She shook her head, frustrated. "I'm pulling guards back from those zones though, Donnic is gathering them down at the docks and will bring a good thousand up here, the sight of them ought to disperse those fanatics."

"Good, will be needed." Garrett nodded, brow furrowed. "I don't think engaging Petrice or any of the crowd with debate is wise right now, let's wait for those guards to show up so they're more open to..." _Huh_? There was seething with rage, crying out curses and hate even louder than before, as Garrett spotted a figure coming out of the Qunari compounds gate and confidently head for Garrett and his entourage. "...negotiations?"

The Qunari moved with steady and calm steps, stoic face ignoring the insults raining over him, muscled chest stained but not slowed as someone managed to hit it with a rotten fruit. In fact, the Qunari didn't even seem to notice the crowd as he headed for Garrett and Aveline, his hand away from the sword strapped to his waist, as if he was just out on a simple walk.

Qunari, however, never _simply_ walked, the Kossith oozed purpose, as all of his kin did.

He stopped a few feet away from the noble and Captain, eyes on them, ignoring the guards warily eyeing him and the people shouting out to murder him just a stone's throw away. At Garrett's feet, Maric first gave voice to a low growl, then fell silent, head cocked to the side in confusion. "I have been chosen to speak for the Arishok, given the importance of his station, he has judged it too much of a risk to come out in person." There was a sneer in the speech, somewhere under it, a judgement of Kirkwall's ability to keep the peace...and Garrett sensed Aveline silently bristling. "He wishes answers to several questions, Basalit-an."

Garrett felt everyone glance at him and drew himself up, straightening, steeling himself for what's to come._ Remember, they're Qunari, be straight_. "Then ask." Next to him, Maric voiced a low whine. _I know, I'll be careful_.

Further away, Petrice had turned to her crowd, hands raised and crying out. "In the absence of light, shadows thrive!"

"Do you have the Tome of Koslun with you?"

Garrett frowned, the direct question was the Qunari way, but there was something dangerous about this specific one he couldn't quite pin down. "My associates are currently hot on a track, they might bring it in today." The Qunari waited, obviously not satisfied, making Garrett grimace. "But no, not at this moment."

"Maker, my enemies are abundant! Many are those who rise up against me! But my faith sustains me! I shall not fear the legion, should they set themselves against me!"

"A Sten discovered a woman fitting the description of the thief of the tome, but it is claimed she is under your protection, is this true?"

_Moment of truth_... Garrett gritted his teeth, glancing at the horde Petrice was commanding, then to the steady eyes of the Qunari, knowing he was walking a very fine line. "The woman _is_ a Kirkwall citizen, she may not be judged by the Qunari." Again, the Qunari waited, making Garrett clench his hands in frustration, the leather of his armour creaking as he shifted where he stood. At his feet, Maric pressed close, calming him. "So _yes_, she _is_." _Maker, I hate her_...

The Qunari's eyes remained still, yet there was the slightest of tension rippling through his arms. "_Is_ she the one who stole the Tome of Koslun?"

_Shit_.

"Maker, though the darkness comes upon me, I shall embrace the light! I shall weather the storm! I shall endure!" Petrice turned back, eyes wild and grin wide as she looked over to Garrett, caught up in her own frenzy. "What you have created, _none_ can tear asunder!"

Garrett swallowed when he turned his eyes back to the Qunari's steady ones. _I could lie_..._no, they'll see right through that and then I'll __really__ be in trouble_. "Yes."

"I see." The Qunari turned to leave.

"Wait!" Garrett lunged, grabbing the Kossith's arm, making the giant turn to look at him, face neutral, yet disgust somewhere deep in his eyes. "She's _helping_ us! She's right now _finding_ the tome for you! You'll get it in days, maybe hours! Isn't _that_ what's important?!"

"Let all repeat the Chant of Light! Only the Word dispels the darkness upon us!"

The Qunari looked to Garrett's hand holding his arm...and the noble let go before the giant turned back to face him, ignoring the way Maric had suddenly started growling. "The main objective _is_ the tome, yes. But words are not-" The Qunari halted mid-sentence, his eyes drifting past Garrett and down the street, making both him and Aveline turn to watch...and Garrett's blood turned to ice.

_Varric_!?

The dwarf was limping, his crossbow being used as a crutch, his face bruised and swollen, even his _coat_ sported the odd gash and stain of blood. "Garrett..." The man's voice was a whisper, jerking Garrett into action and making him gesture to two of his men to help the dwarf closer. Supported by them, Varric was there in an instant, gaze lowered. "She...Maker damn her..."

_No_. _No, no,no, no_! "Varric, don't tell me that.." Garrett put a hand on his friend's shoulder and felt it shaking under his grip even as the dwarf, tired, moved a hand down to pet Maric's head, the dog licking it with an uncertain look of worry in his eyes.

"The one who repents, who has _faith_, unshaken by the _darkness_ of the world, she shall know true peace!"

"She's got it, she ran away...I _tried_ to stop her, my men..." The dwarf shook his head. "I...I knew desperation make people fight like mad, but Maker..." He looked up at Garrett all of a sudden, making both him and Aveline blink in surprise at seeing the dwarf's tears. "She nearly _killed_ me. I stood up for her, _helped_ her, saved her life and she just...just...had I not let go of Bianca, she would have..." Something dark appeared in Varric's eyes, the man not fast enough to turn his head away to hide it. "...when I get my hands on her..."

Garrett, unable to answer, just stared at the dwarf in a mixture of horror and anger. _I should have bloody locked her up in my basement_...

"Garrett..." Aveline's hand landed on his shoulder, and Garrett, reluctant to let go or look away from his hurt friend, only slowly turned his head.

_Bloody hell_.

The Qunari was leaving, again the man was ignoring the insults and odd piece of garbage hurled at him as he strode back towards the gate...and he'd gotten too far to chase down unless Garrett wanted to try his luck with antagonizing the crowd. _This is bad, this is really bad_. "We need to calm down the situation." Garrett straightened, trying to calculate the implications of the Arishok choosing to not treat with him anymore and sending his demands directly to the viscount, or with Petrice's people reacting when the Viscount undoubtedly agreed to hunt down Isabela and the chaos that could create. _This won't be pretty_. _Maybe the Qunari will simply leave to hunt her down, but I doubt I'll be that lucky_..._yeah, we have to do some damage control, and fast_. "Aveline, we need to disperse this crowd, how soon can Donnic get here with the guard?"

"Those who bear false witness and work to deceive others, know this! There is but _one_ truth!" Garrett shot Petrice an irritated look, but the woman simply grinned back before continuing, glaring daggers at the Kossith disappearing through the closing gate. "All things are known to our Maker! And He shall judge their _lies_!"

Aveline, cocking her head closer to hear over the shouting of Petrice and the following cries of her followers, grimaced. "Half an hour, a little less, but then what? I don't think the Qunari will listen to you anymore, we're in some deep _shit_ here."

"You could always seal the gate with bricks." Varric grunted in a vain attempt at humour, the man wincing as he touched a bruise nearly sealing his left eye shut. "Out of sight, out of mind."

"For You are the fire at the heart of the world! And comfort is only Yours to give!"

_Doesn't she ever shut up_? Garrett shook his head at Aveline, taking a deep breath as he tried to focus through the clamour. "I'm _still_ Basalit-an, that must count for _something_. The situation is dire, but if we can just make the tension subside a little so I can speak to the Arishok _in person_, I believe I can smooth things over. He _has_ to listen or he'll never-"

With a boom, the gates to the compound swung wide open.

Garrett turned to look, his eyes growing wide as he felt Aveline, Varric and all his guards go deathly still. Only Maric let loose a sound, a worried whine.

"Behold! The monsters of darkness appears! Their treachery revealed!" Petrice called out, making her people roar in rage.

All Garrett saw was the Qunari though.

Those coming out were _not_ the refugees escaping a storm that had once entered with barely a thread on them. Dressed in dark suits of scale armour, the Kossith looked even larger than they were, the helmets they wore were open-faced and allowed their horns to protrude out, the smooth surface of them betraying the work of a fine smith's work. Those at the front were carrying triangular shields of blackened steel and wood, large enough to cover most of their bodies from sight. At the back, Garrett also saw a forest of what could only be the Qunari halberds...and at the centre of the large group coming out...the Arishok stood.

"Our time is now! The Maker remembers his martyrs!"

The mighty Qunari leader was not armoured in scale, but black plate, the helmet he wore sporting a visor of vertical bars, the eyes behind them were glowing with an inner fire, of the power of command, of being in his element.

And Garrett found his legs turn to water._ Oh no_.

The Arishok raised his right arm, a long sword in it, gesturing forward, his voice booming. "Vinek Kathas!"

The front ranks of shield-armed warriors of the Qunari rushed forth, free hands drawing back and revealing the great spears the Qunari used as javelins...and hurled the missiles straight into the backs of the guardsmen holding the crowd back.

_Maker, no_...

With cries of agony, crunches of metal and bone breaking and the gasps of hundreds being caught by surprise by the sudden violence, the small number of guardsmen all fell to the javelins digging into their backs, slaughtered in a single volley from the surprise attack.

_NO_!

Petrice was the first to recover from the shock, the woman shooting Garrett a foolishly confident grin as she once more raised her book high. "The Qunari show their true colours! For the Maker, destroy them!"

Before anyone could either choose to run or obey though, the Arishok raised his blade high. "Viddathari!" As if springing out of the air, the battlements on the Qunari compound's walls were suddenly bristling with elven converts, each armoured in finely made leather armour, each holding a bow, arrows notched and faces alight with grins of those about to have vengeance. "Vinek Kathas!" As one, the elves drew back their bows and loosed a volley into the densely packed crowd.

Garret caught a glimpse of Petrice, her eyes wide and face turning pale as she realised the danger and what battle truly meant...and then she was on her back, pinned to another two corpses by half a dozen arrows lodged through her body, blind eyes staring at the book in her hand, now with an arrow nailing it to her palm.

A scream, as if from a single giant creature, arose from the crowd as panic gripped them. They turned to run, only for those at the back to block the way, the tightly packed mass impossible to move fast. Even as Garrett watched with a strange feeling of detachment, people began to fall and tumble over one another, only to be crushed under foot by others too panicked to even notice them.

The elves didn't stop shooting though, their arrows first slamming into the rear ranks in powerful straight shots, then raining over the crowd, killing and wounding with every shot as none could cover themselves or duck.

_Stop_..._please_..._this is_..._this isn't how it's supposed to go_..._it doesn't make sense_...

"Sten, Vinek Kathas!"

The Arishok was pointing at Garrett now, eyes calm...and twelve of the Qunari were rushing towards him, shields raised and a second volley of javelins held ready.

_Why_...? _I was trying to_-

A gauntleted hand gripped Garrett by the shoulder, roughly pulling him backwards, Jeannie's voice a bark. "Captain, take our lord to safety! Fereldians, charge!"

Another gauntleted hand gripped his shoulder, this time it being Aveline's firm grip as she roughly jerked him backwards and into a stumbling retreat. Garrett was staring after Jeannie though, her and the other five of his guards. "What are you...? Why...?"

Jeannie's answer was a mere roar, the woman hurling herself forward with her shield raised, at the head of the charging guards. A dozen javelins hurtled at her though, five missed while three others forced her shield back step by step with the force of their punch before a ninth punched through and slammed into her chest. One punched into her left thigh and another reduced her right knee to a gory mess...and then the twelfth speared its way through her skull.

The woman fell without a word, the cry instead coming from Darren as the man rushed into a Qunari, ducked under a thrust of his foe and drove his own blade into the chest of his assailant. A second later he too died though as two Qunari blades hacked into him, one making his intestines spill out over the ground as the other sent his head flying through the air.

And then Garrett was running, Aveline pulling him along as Varric kept up with the support of a whining Maric.

Behind them, the clash and cries of combat echoed as Garrett's outnumbered humans met the Qunari for a losing rearguard battle.

He couldn't help himself, still shocked and confused by the sudden change of what had occurred, Garrett glanced back.

His guards were now reduced to two, the Qunari, unharmed save for Darren's kill, having formed a wall of shields and now advancing on the roaring men who desperately tried to hold them back with futile hacks and slashes, knowing their deaths to be imminent.

Beyond that, more Qunari were pouring out of the compound, halberdiers and men with shields and javelins forming regiments with the precision of a machine. Behind them, hordes of elves in leather armour, masks over their mouths and carrying arrows also began to form units, Kossith officers among them gesturing and barking orders. Ahead of them all, a carpet of dead already lay, the remains of the crowd lying thick.

Beyond that...screams were rising, as was an all too familiar green mist.

And at the centre of it all, the Arishok stood, black plate armour shining in the setting sun, calm gaze locking with Garrett's, his eyes aglow with determination that no argument would stop.

Only then did fear truly grip Garrett.

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for her feather quill._


	63. Chapter 63

_This is madness_...

"Garrett..."

_Utter madnes_s...

"Garrett."

_What does he hope to gain? It's completely_-

"_Garrett_!" The shout was accompanied by a rough hand shaking him, making Garrett look up in confusion. He found himself staring into Aveline's green eyes, her gaze hard and mouth snapping words. "I know you're off guard and in shock, but I need you to _focus_." Her free hand landed on his other shoulder, shaking him more vigorously. "You can make sense of it _later_. Right now, we _need_ you."

Garrett blinked, glancing to his right and finding a panting Varric practically leaning his entire weight on Maric, the dog giving him an encouraging look. Looking to his left, Garrett saw an orange glow slowly grow further down town, a fire raging as panicked screams drifted through the city like ghosts.

"What's the plan?" Aveline's question struck hard, making Garrett wince as he realised just how many would turn to him. _It wasn't supposed to turn out like this, it'll be a disaster no matter what_. "We need one, and we need it _now_." The question made Garrett nod and take a breath. _I've done this before, panic is the worst, control the situation, gain the advantage, survive_..._this is __your__ city, Hawke, __defend it_.

Garrett whipped his head around, looking back towards the Qunari compound. Far off, he could see the green mist of the Qunari gas rise near what had to be one of the main streets. _It's going along it, towards_..._ah, shit, he's thinking we'll act as Qunari_. "Meredith can't ignore this, she'll rally her Templars, but how fast she'll be, we don't know. The Arishok is taking his forces towards the Viscount's keep, I'm betting." _The fool_. "You go find Donnic, rally as many guards as you can on your way, circle around the enemy advance and try to reach the main plaza, I'll try to meet up with you alongside as many troops I can rally. We won't be fast enough to stop him, but if we manage it, we can be right on his tail."

"The Keep? I thought he was looking for the tome?" Aveline frowned, confused.

"He thinks the Viscount has the power to get it, the man _is_ the ruler of Kirkwall and the humans in it, after all..." Garrett shook his head. "It's not important, but we must move now! Varric, can you keep-"

"Nehraa Qunari!" As one, the group whirled about, spotting eleven Qunari warriors rushing around a corner, javelins raised at the ready as they caught sight of their prey. _Damn, thought we'd lost them_. "Katara Basalit-an!"

With a groan, Varric raised his crossbow, tone weary. "Fight or run?"

Garrett grimaced, the odds of either working out horribly. "We-"

With a crash, four of the Qunari fell face first into the dirt, the remaining stumbling into a confused halt as they spotted the quarrels from crossbows stuck in their fallen...only for two more to fall, one wailing as he clutched at a bolt stuck deep in his eye, the bolt somehow having failed to kill him.

"For the Cats!"

_Wait the_..._ohhh_...

The strange battle-cry was echoed by dozens of voices, the alleys and dark nooks of Lowtown suddenly coming alive as men and women scurried out into the light. Armoured in a mixture of leather, furs and the odd piece of chainmail and with their long hair hanging free they looked like wild Chasind.

The remaining Qunari, at the shout of their leader, formed a circle, their backs to one another, a thrown javelin killing one of the new combatants while a thrust slew a second, making the attackers pull back.

But only for a moment.

Another volley of crossbow-bolts slammed into the Qunari ranks, the shooters mere shadows up on the roofs above. Two of the Qunari fell, multiple bolts stuck in them, the high-powered shots making a mockery of their armour...and then the mob of people were all over them.

A woman cried out, her arm shorn off at the elbow by a Kossith's blade, and the Kossith himself fell without a word, throat slit by a long dagger as another punched into his chest and a third into his back. Another Qunari sent a human sprawling with a swing of his shield...and then the shield and the arm attached to it hit the ground as a two-handed axe cut through the warrior's shoulder. The last Qunari shouted something...but all that could be seen of him was his raised blade as he disappeared under a sea of hacking and stabbing people.

Silence.

Then the large group turned to face Garrett's...and Aveline grimly stood at the ready as Garrett and the rest calmly looked for the leader of the gore-covered 'barbarians' before them.

The man stepping forward had his hands in his pockets, wore a stained leather armour, had long black hair left unchecked in a curly mess and a surprisingly polite smile on his lips. "Hawke, the Cats are at your service." The bow of the man was a mechanical bending at the waist without the hands ever leaving his pockets, but deep. "I'm Ben, of the Cats, and it's an honour to fulfil our part of the protection-deal we have with you, honour among thieves _will_ be restored."

At the back, Varric was snickering, but Aveline's eyes were narrowing. "You're a gang..."

"Easy, Aveline..." Garrett put a hand on the woman's shoulder...and she slowly lowered her weapons, but didn't sheathe them, eyes fixed on the group before her, then grimly darting up to try to count the number of snipers on the roofs above.

"Aveline? As in the Captain of the guard?" Ben blinked, momentarily torn. "Is she...with you, Serah?"

"She is, she's not to be touched." Garrett cut back. We need to hurry this up. "Now, this is what I need you to do, I need-"

"Hold on here!" The gang-leader took a step back and chuckled, the crowd behind him following suit as they eyed the noble before them. "We might be paid to protect you, but that doesn't mean you get to order us ar-"

"Ben." The gang-leader cocked his head, looking past Garrett and spotted Varric, the dwarf giving a small wave and a smile, nodding towards Garrett. "Hi."

"_Ohhhh_...!" The man's eyes widened, then he shook his head, turning back to Garrett. "As you were saying, Serah...what do you need?" Behind him, the rest of the gang looked at one another in confusion, but none questioned the turnabout.

"First, information. What do you know of the Qunaris' actions so far? What is your disposition? What is going on in the city?" Garrett took a step closer, hoping his tone would betray the urgency of his need.

It did, the man before him suddenly standing as straight as a guard during inspection as he replied, smile gone and brow furrowed in thought. "There was word of the elven converts skulking around in Darktown before this, my guess is they planted that gas you see over in the main street. Also, a few of their converts are still spread across the city, they were giving the guard quite a run-around just before the attack."

"Son of a..._not_ Petrice's doing then, that bloody Qunari sod planned this!" Aveline burst out.

Garrett ignored her though, eyes on Ben as the man continued. "Most Qunari are heading towards Hightown though." _As predicted_. "As to the city, it's in chaos. It started near that mist of the Qunari, then spread further out...it's not even crazies, just people looting and killing and such. With all the guards busy and such, I guess they see a chance to get rich." Ben shrugged even as Aveline muttered a curse under her breath. "Gangs are also fighting like mad between one another, trying to gain more territory and steal each other's loot now that they can do so in the open." Ben grimaced in disgust. "As to us, as we should, we're defending our territory and the people that pay us to do _just that_...we're also taking care of a fire in our territory that spread from another gang's, it's nothing we can't handle though."

_Others infighting, uncontrolled chaos outside these small zones of control_..._we can gain from this in the future as well as reign in on the situation once things calm down_. "Good, keep doing just that. None gets to destroy or kill within your territory, but avoid any other confrontations, avoid even the Qunari unless they attack." Garrett nodded, satisfied. "Also, Aveline and I both need a guide to take us safely to where we need to be. I need to get to my estate and she needs to find guardsmen."

"At the docks, yes, we've spotted them." Ben nodded, looking over to the glaring Aveline. "Mouse!" The giant that stepped forth from the group behind Ben made a mockery of his name, the man nearly the size of a Kossith, and about as broad around the shoulders to boot.

"You named a guy in the 'Cats', 'Mouse'?" Varric asked, chuckling.

Ben's lips twitched, but the smile never appeared as he shot Garrett's grim face a glance. "He'll get her through to the guards." Ben nodded to Aveline, distaste in his eyes. "I would be _disappointed_ if she then proceeded to arrest him..."

"She won't." Garrett replied, and looked back just in time to make Aveline slam her mouth shut, ending her protest before it even begun. "Will she?"

Looking away, the woman crossed her arms over her chest. "Fine...but we'll talk about this once this mess is cleaned up, I swear it."

"I'm sure we will." Garrett turned back to Ben. "And for me, Maric and Varric?"

"Maric?" Ben asked, only to jump as the Mabari still supporting Varric let loose an annoyed bark. "Oh, yes, Maric!" He looked away from the giant dog quickly, a hint of fear in his eyes. "Dog!"

The man stepping up next to Mouse was almost as small as Merrill, whereas Mouse was all muscle, Dog was all skin and bones.

Garrett couldn't help but shake his head. _Of course that's his name_...

Then, in the distance, a strange sound, louder than a dragon's call, made the earth shake.

Garrett, eyes wide, stared at Aveline, who stared back in horror, and then they stared over towards Hightown, watching a black cloud rise high.

"We must go! Now! Meet you at the plaza!"

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_Maker, protect us_!

Garrett was gasping, as much from the strenuous jog they'd endured as from the sights around him as with wide eyes he looked around himself, trying to comprehend the destruction around him.

It was devastation all around, unimaginable and brutal in a place that for so long had always been the quietest and safest place in Kirkwall. A sanctuary of peace in a den of brutality, where even intrigue never ended with a blade, but with words, papers and laws.

Now, violated.

It was almost surgical. The corpses littering the streets were never in the middle of them, but lay in puddles of blood at the sides where they'd been executed, many even seemingly having been dragged from the middle where they'd been killed. _Nothing allowed to hamper the advance, the Qunari are doing this like it's a drill_... Yet despite the butchery, the number of corpses weren't vast, guardsmen, soldiers, only a few random civilians that had probably gotten in the way.

Yet outside the street, things were worse. Everywhere, the gates to many estates lay in mangled heaps, some nobles had only bothered with iron fences, and those had been broken down in entire sections wherever the Qunari had chosen to storm in. The ground outside the mansions were littered with dead, nowhere did it look like the defenders had even had a chance to gather into a unified defence.

And at the mansions themselves the doors had been ripped from their hinges and windows smashed, black smoke rising from them as from within the great houses it glowed with the unmistakable light of uncontrolled fire._ Maker, __all__ the nobles_? _They're all dead_ _or_... Garrett eyed the broken doors with suspicion. ..._alive_? The thought of the scenarios either situation opened up were terrifying._ No nobility left in Kirkwall with Meredith around_..._or all nobles with the Qunari_.

Another plume of smoke, large for being so distant, rose from the Viscount's keep, and to Garrett's surprise, there was no sound of fighting coming from there. _Was I wrong, and a fight never broke out there, or has it already over_? _That smoke though_..._it's giving me a bad feeling_.

"Ah, there's your place." Garrett blinked in confusion, looking to Varric and finding the dwarf practically riding Maric who he was depending on for support, the dog looked tired, but hadn't protested from the weight of the no doubt heavy dwarf. The man was, under the still swelling bruises, smiling. "Guess those walls paid off, huh?"

"We shouldn't be able to see it from..." Garrett looked in the direction Varric was, and blinked at the sight of the estate usually blocking his view from the current angle having collapsed, only blackened beams still standing as a crackling fire tore apart what little remained. "...here?" Yet, despite that horrifying sight, Garrett caught himself grinning in relief, the thing he'd hoped for most yet not quite dared voice coming true before his eyes.

Behind the haze of soot of the other mansion, surrounded by dark clouds and smoke, his mansion shone like a white fortress in a tide of darkness, untarnished. A few human shapes stood before it, but the majority were concentrated down the slope, near the unbroken and unconquered walls. As he came closer, Garrett noticed unmistakable signs of fighting. Blood, dents in the wall, corpses, mostly elves in familiar leather armour, littering its side...but the wall had held.

_Thank the Maker for my paranoia_...

Someone had spotted them, a voice full of excitement bursting out. "It's Lord Hawke! The lord is here! Open the gate!"

"Well, that's it for me then." The man who spoke, Dog, had been betrayed to be a mere boy when he'd spoken, though one of surprising confidence. "You can take care of yourself from here on, Lordie, I'm sure."

Garrett turned, looking down at the young boy...and the child flinched. "That's _my_ _Lord_...and yes, thank you." Garrett held up a hand, stopping Dog mid-turn. "Tell Ben I will speak to him once this is over, remind him of his honour...and who he works for."

The boy's eyes widened, and then he nodded. "I'll tell him Lo-my Lord.." Garrett nodded back...and Dog turned, running back towards his kin, picking his way with the same ease as he had while guiding the group back to Hightown.

"Technically they work for _me_, you know..." Varric muttered, then smirked as Garrett shot him a puzzled glance."...I'll let you borrow them though."

Chuckling back, Garrett turned...and found his amusement instantly replaced by illogical worry as he hurried towards the nearby gate. _They're fine, the mansion is standing, they're all fine_... "Come on!"

He ran.

Then he was through the open gate, thick oak and steel covered in hidden runes of protection silently sliding shut behind the following Maric and Varric.

_Mother_.

Garrett barely saw the woman in the storm of many faces and shouted questions, then he was holding her tight as he squeezed his eyes shut.

_Merrill_.

The woman was pushing through the crowd of soldiers and servants, and Garrett let go of his mother to grab the even smaller woman, lifting her up with a relieved sigh, her whimper in his ear revealing the terror she'd felt. "I knew you'd gone to the Qunari and...and I..."

Slowly, Garrett let go of her, fingers moving up to brush the tears from the woman's cheeks, offering a pale smile. "I'm not that easy to kill, okay?"

Merrill swallowed, then nodded, returning the smile. "O-okay."

_You have a job to do_. Garrett turned his head and straightened, gaze moving along those assembled. _All the servants, a lot of guards, even more than expected, Anders, Fenris_..._seems everyone managed to follow my instructions for what to do in a crisis_. "Bastile, report."

The grizzled veteran shouldering his way through the crowd wore a grim face stained with dried blood. "Almost all the servants were in the estate during the attack, we lost a few guards during a storming attempt, but our numbers have swelled to nearly two hundred when those protecting our merchants and warehouses fled here." The chevalier nodded towards the mansion on the hill. "The merchants those guards were in charge of are up at the mansion, as are a dozen or so nobles that managed to escape the Qunari storming and sought shelter with us. As for-"

"Oh, Garrett!" Leandra, hovering near her son, exclaimed, hands brushing his shoulder. "They...they killed Gamlen!"

Garrett grimaced, yet to his shame, he felt a rush of relief that it had been _Gamlen_ and not someone else. He shot Leandra a sympathetic look, but then turned his grim eyes to Bastile, who nodded. "Indeed, Serah, the Qunari cut him down as he tried to reach the gate..." The man shifted where he stood. "...I judged it imprudent to try a sally to try and save him."

Garrett felt Leandra tense behind him, yet after a glance at the wide-eyed people around him, _hundreds_ of them...Garrett nodded. "Good man." Behind him, Leandra took a shocked step back. "What of the Qunari? Their movements?"

"They killed or scattered most defenders at first impact around Hightown. Most guardsmen were spread out and fled while the guards of the nobles tried defending their estates only to be overwhelmed in short order." Bastile grimaced, scarred face wrinkling in exhaustion. "The Qunari took all nobles they could find and headed for the Viscount's keep. I had expected the fight there to last for a while, it _is_ moderately fortified...but it was not to be expected."

"The explosion we heard?"

The man nodded. "It was louder up here, I'm sure. We felt the world move...it was not a fireball from a Saarebas, it was some kind of vessel they carried, shaped like a barrel." Bastile shook his head. "Back in Orlais, I studied this thing, this weapon of theirs, but I had _never_ seen the effect...it shattered the main gate to the keep in the blink of an eye, and none within seemed capable to resist in its wake." The man shook his head. "The Keep is now theirs, and they're fortifying it and holding all the nobles they took within." The man shook his head. "The Templars passed by though, heading towards the plaza...not as numerous as I thought they would be though."

Garrett frowned. _Damn it, Meredith, what now_? "They're going to get the nobles killed, aren't they?"

"If the Keep is stormed..." Bastile frowned. "...the Qunari do not know mercy, they strive to cause as much harm as possible when at war."

_And when the nobles are all killed save me and a few others, and Meredith stands victorious in the ashes after the battle_... The thought sent a chill down Garrett's spine. _They __mustn't__ die, the victory __mustn't__ be Meredith's_.

Taking a deep breath, Garrett looked around himself, noting the way Fenris was already leaning on his sword, ready. How Varric, healed by Anders in the shadows during everyone's focus on Garrett, held his crossbow loaded and ready. How Bastile, gripping his sword tight, stood firm and ready, and how many of the soldiers around them straightened under his scrutiny._ Very well, offence is sometimes the best defence,_ _and I know the best kind of offence_

"Fenn, Orana!" The elven man and woman appeared as if summoned by magic, eyes wide at being the first called. "My armour!" Nodding, eyes even wider, the two began to run for the mansion as Leandra gasped in horror.

"Son, you don't have-"

"Bastile, how many men do you need to hold the mansion?" Garrett ignored the woman.

"I think the worst has passed...give me fifty of them with crossbows and bows to cover the walls and I'll manage." The chevalier grunted, looking disappointed at being left behind, yet accepting it as the logical choice. "You won't need the archers anyway, I'm guessing." A wry smile escaped the man.

"Not if it goes as planned." Garrett agreed, then turned his gaze to Fenris. "You'll be paid accordingly." The elf nodded, grim, calm. Garrett looked then to Varric. "Coming for the sake of the story?" The dwarf grinned. "Figures..." Then Garrett turned his eyes to Anders. "I hope not to..."

"You must be joking." The scarred mage growled, shaking his head underneath his cowl. "You _know_ what's out there for me..."

"_Only_ if needed...and if it is..." Garrett stepped closer, so close he felt Anders' breath brush his ear. "...I _won't_ let her touch you, I swear it by Andraste...you will only find to gain from this, as a _mage_ saves the _nobility_ of Kirkwall..."

The words were the right ones, making the mage suddenly smile, a pleased glint in his eyes. "Now _that's_ a delicious thought...that would truly give Meredith something to choke on." A pause, to consider...and then the mage nodded. "Very well, but be _careful_ with this, Hawke...you do _not_ want to make me an enemy by rash decisions."

"I never make rash decisions." Garrett grunted, stepping back and turning his gaze to Merrill, his words sticking in his throat at the sight of her.

She was smiling though, gesturing at the armour she already wore, at the 'spear' in her free hand. "Already ready." _I don't need your reassurance, I don't need a promise, I trust you_. The message was clear, making Garrett swallow. _Maker, I hope I know what I'm doing_.

"But, son, you don't _have_ to-"

Garrett turned, eyes finding his mother's...and her protest died in her throat. "I do, and I _will_." With that, he turned his head, looking across the many around him, men and women in armour, shifting in nervousness at the order that would come. He raised his voice, wanting to be heard. "You are Fereldians! You are Orlesians! You are Rivaini and Nevarrans! There's even two of you from the Anderfels!" There were a few blinks of surprise. _Again, surprised I keep track of you_? _You ought to be used to it by now_. "But you are also Kirkwallers! _Remember_ _that_! This is _our_ city!"

Behind him, he could feel Varric's eyes on him, urging him on.

For a moment, he struggled for words, yet when they came, they came easily. "Six of you died for me an hour ago! Six good men and women, our friends." There were a few whimpers and growls as what many had feared was confirmed, that six of the best and most liked of the soldiers were dead. "I intend to make the Qunari repay this _with interest_!"

The answer to his shout was an angry roar, a roar of agreement. Behind him, Varric was nodding in approval.

Garrett's smile was grim, his confidence growing. _I can still turn this around, make the disaster become a boon_...

The thought made his smile widen.

_Good_.

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson, for the raiding._


	64. Chapter 64

The plaza, usually so vast, was crowded.

Holding up a closed fist, Garrett ordered his troops into a halt, realising what chaos the entry of troops not knowing where to go would cause. _And where __should__ we go_? Looking around, Garrett tried to estimate the numbers and disposition of the people gathered, but even with him standing above them on top of a set of stairs, it was difficult.

Like silvery scales of a slithering snake, there were small squads of ten templars marching in from a street further to the right. But when they entered the plaza they disappeared among the horde of those that had already arrived, forming up into regiments, though neither as fast or smoothly as Garrett had witness the Qunari do. _Bloody lots of them_..._a thousand, two_? _Where's the rest of them though_? Everywhere, shields were being strapped on, spears and swords checked for damage and boots shifting back and forth as the nervous energy in the air rose.

Closer to the end of the plaza, another group stood, orderly lines of the guardsmen facing away from the more numerous templars and towards the distant keep, their less imposing armour a mottled grey and orange. Like the templars, they looked nervous, but there was a sterner air around them, their lines crisper, their spears unwavering. _Veterans, maybe not with battle, but veterans none the less_. Garrett smiled grimly, realising just how proud Aveline must feel about them.

_We'll go there_. Noticing that the space between the wall and the many templars would only allow five men abroad, Garrett turned his head. "Varric, Fenris, stand on each side and make the troops form a narrow column, then follow me." Then Garrett was marching forth, studiously ignoring the glances thrown his way by the many templars lining his path as he headed for the front of the plaza, the column behind him noisily following in tightly packed rows.

Further ahead, the spire that was the Viscount's keep towered over them, most of the front hidden behind a veil of grey smoke that emanated from where one would have expected the gate to be, but which now was nothing but rubble.

Garrett couldn't see any defenders, but considering the dark arrow-slits along the exterior and the smoke masking the nearest battlements, Garrett knew appearances were deceptive._ The Arishok no doubt is ready to greet us_..._yet_..._how does he plan to surviv_e?_ Even the best defence won't last against the might that can be brought against him_.

Banishing such thoughts from his mind, for a bloodbath on such magnitude would be a disaster as far as he was concerned, Garrett instead raised his fist once more when he reached the other end of the plaza. Behind him, there was shuffling, but thankfully no embarrassing moments of people crashing into one another. _Maker, I should have had them run some marching exercises at some point_...

Now to his right, the near thousand strong troop of guardsmen still stood facing the Viscount's keep. Their long shields were leaning against them and their helmets were resting on the ground before them as each guardsman held a muted conversation with their neighbour or drank from their water-skins. Some only stood there, like frozen statues, staring at the mighty keep towering over them, fear or grim determination written on their faces.

"Hawke!" Aveline, having been walking along the front of her troops, came jogging, a grim-looking Donnic half a step behind. Coming to a stop in front of him, the woman offered a nod, her eyebrows knotted together in a frown. "All the guardsmen at the keep have been killed, unless the Qunari took them prisoner."

"Doubt they'd let themselves be taken, Captain." Donnic muttered, hands at his sides curling into fists.

"Right you are." The woman nodded back, a flicker of pain behind her eyes. "A good lot." She took a deep breath. "Only piece of positive news is that due to the Qunari distractions, there weren't more of them in there." A grimace and she turned her gaze to Garrett. "Two hundred, or just about, were in the keep." _Nearly a tenth of the guard, Maker_... "Add to that the ones killed along the Qunari's advance and the chaos in the city and I'm guessing we've already lost five hundred guardsmen in this."

"The element of surprise is gone, there won't be any more such severe blows." It felt like a lame sort of comfort, but Garrett didn't know what else to say.

Donnic nodded though, growling low. "He's right, we're _organised_ now, _facing_ them...they won't have any easy victories any more"

"They won't have any victories _at all_." Aveline corrected with an equally low growl before facing Garrett. "I have nearly a thousand guardsmen here. The rest are holed up in various places in the city, trying to create safe-houses for people on the run from all the killing." She shook her head, exasperated. "It's mad out there, Hawke."

"It was bad enough with that gas acting as the Qunari's vanguard along Lowtown and making everyone in their path genuinely go crazy..." Donnic agreed, grunting in frustration. "...but then it bloody _spread_." 

Aveline grimaced. "People started to fight back the crazies, it got out of hand and, well..." Then she shook her head. "Plus, you have people using the confusion as an opportunity to vent old grievances. There's reports of Alienage elves going out to lynch bread-merchants, then others going out to do the same to random elves and anyone else they might think a Qunari-_sympathiser_. There's half the population of Darktown coming up to loot and pillage, gangs taking the opportunity to wage open war on each other for more territory and in the harbour a crash caused every ship trying to leave the harbour to start a panicked battle with one another just to be the first one to get out." She shook her head. "After this, a lot of heads will roll..."

"A lot of heads will roll before this night has passed too, I'm sure." The three turned at the sound of the new, and exceedingly cultivated, voice.

Garrett eyed the slim arrival with a purposefully neutral look, the two templar guards just behind him not a welcome sight, and his own appearance somewhat confusing. "First...Enchanter, isn't it? I believe I've seen you at the Reinhart parties."

"That time I was allowed to go, yes, though I don't think we were properly introduced." The greying elf bowed his head. "Orsino, at your service, serah Hawke."

Garrett looked back, expecting Anders to appear from his hiding place among Garrett's troops, but it didn't happen, Merrill or the man's weak sense of self-preservation apparently succeeding in holding him back from who he in one of his rants had called 'first lap-dog of the chantry'._ Thank the Maker for small mercies_. Looking back to the mage, then behind him, Garrett frowned. "A pleasure, I'm sure. Where are your students though? Or possibly a few of the other teachers?" Orsino shifted, looking awkward as Garrett's frown deepened. "You are here, I suppose, to assist the templars in the taking of the keep, no?"

"No." _Oh for_... Orsino shook his head with a grimace, looking back at his escort. "I'm here to ensure a 'calm and orderly Circle, preventing any foolish actions by the younger generation of mages'."

"That sounds like Cullen phrasing Meredith's order." The First Enchanter didn't reply, only grimaced. "So basically...you're a hostage to keep the mages behaving and not rally to some figurehead for a foolish break-out idea?"

Orsino shifted awkwardly at the words, but didn't deny them, meanwhile, the two templars behind him exchanged glances, no doubt wishing they had another job at the moment. In the end, the one who answered was another newcomer. "That is more or less correct, Hawke." _Great, this ought to be a headache_. Struggling not to groan, Garrett turned to face the approaching Meredith. "I do not appreciate the tone of criticism, though I'm not surprised since you cannot hope to understand the duties of a Templar." _You'd be surprised_. "Glad you at least agree that any break-out would be foolish though." The woman stopped short of barging into him, smile cold. "Your brother told me you had some sense."

"He's too kind." Garrett looked past the woman, to the man behind and to her right. Despite the defiant look he got back, he knew what he should do, what was proper...yet the memory of watching mother hide away in her room, of their latest encounter...it stopped the words from escaping. Instead, Garrett turned his gaze over to the man behind and to Meredith's right. "Cullen, good to see you." His brother's face screwed up in annoyance even as Cullen offered a pale but polite nod back. Garrett, meanwhile, steered his gaze back to Meredith and the task at hand. "Why aren't there more mages here? You could have more than a dozen here, under guard of course, bombarding the enemy."

Meredith scowled at him. "The templars are more than capable of handling this themselves."

"Of course, I was simply thinking you'd have less casualties that way..." Garrett grunted, not really about to pick a fight over something he didn't want to see enacted in the first place. "You intend to storm then?" He held back a grimace, dreading the answer. "Don't think you have enough troops for that at the moment..."

Meredith's scowl somehow managed to get even worse. "More will come, many are currently hunting down the apostates that the Qunari gas and the events after revealed, also, I have tripled those guarding the mages so they can properly receive these apostates."

"You mean put those in the Circle under closer guard!" Orsino snapped, the man standing straight, as if trying to match the height of the humans surrounding him. "Do not try to hide your lack of trust, Meredith."

"Templars_ must not_ trust mages, it's the way it must be." Meredith retorted, chin raised. "And given the activities of certain students, you should _not_ ask for it."

Orsino sighed, rubbing his temples, hinting that the discussion had been one he'd had too many times. However, before he could reply and turn the thing into a debate there was no time for, Garrett spoke up. "I'm sorry, we have an _army_ holding the centre of our city, and you're diverting the majority of your troops to hunt _criminals_?" Meredith turned her frown from Orsino to him. _Why am I even arguin_g? _I don't __want__ her attacking_..._but_..._eugh_..._it's so moronic_! "Are you _insane_!?"

"Take care with the tone you use with me, _noble_." Meredith sneered the rank as if it was a curse. "Or may I remind you that cleaning up _your_ mess is _not_ a Templar duty."

"You got to be...they're burning down the city around you!" Garrett shook his head. "You have to do something whether you like it or not!"

"On that, we're agreed." The Knight-Commander snorted, gaze drawn to the keep, voice dripping with contempt. "Templars will die for a fight that isn't theirs, all because _you_ couldn't control these people."

"If you recall, not long ago I asked you to..." Garrett clenched his teeth shut, realising that further arguing would bring him nowhere. _Sanctimonious bitch, always thinking she's righ_t... "What is your plan then? I'm guessing you have one."

"We apprehend as many mad apostates as possible, containing the situation." _Oooof course_."Meanwhile, my troops are encircling the keep and will keep anyone from leaving as I gather enough templars to storm the keep."

"That's your plan?" Garrett stared at the woman, unimpressed.

"Yes." Meredith scowled back, noting the look on his face. "Why?"

"The Qunari took nearly every noble in the city with them into the keep." Aveline grunted, shifting where she stood, gaze flicking between Garrett and Meredith with a concerned look in her eyes. "They're likely keeping both them and the Viscount hostage."

"Which means that if you barge up the main gate, the hostages will all die." Orsino finished with a snort. "Doesn't take a scholar to figure that one out."

"No, but apparently it takes a_ leader of warriors_ to know that you _can't save them all_." Meredith snapped, arms crossed over her chest. "Those nobles were dead the moment they were brought into the keep, I won't hesitate in carrying out my duty because of some pampered fools didn't think to run faster or fight better."

Garrett found himself narrowing his eyes, and the Knight-Commander met his gaze, unflinching. _Are you saying this out of conviction_..._or because of how convenient it would be without all those nobles and the viscount_...? Meredith's face didn't reveal any guilt. _Would she feel guilt, if she's convinced them gone would be for the better_? Nor any subtle machinations. _As subtle as a brick, or is she_...? _One does not become commander out of nothing_. Nor anything but hostility and defiance, daring him to question her decision or authority. "Very well, I understand your decision." Garrett finally spoke, making all present arch their eyebrows in surprise. "However, while you must do your duty, so must I...and with all major nobles captured or dead, as well as the Viscount, I am the _de facto_ acting Viscount here!"

Around him, people took a step back, sensing danger, a confrontation.

All but Meredith, the woman's face _amused_.

"I suppose you are, _acting Viscount_." She turned, gesturing at the nearby templars to follow, which Orsino's guards took as including them as well, making them grab the protesting mage by the arms and hoist him along. "Good luck using your few guardsmen and hob-cob of mercenaries to save your nobles or whatever you intend...we templars will proceed according to _my_ orders, however."

Garrett glared at the woman's back, ignoring the warning look his brother gave him as well as the apologetic one Cullen offered. All he saw was Meredith, the woman calmly walking away, thinking him the fool. His growl was low, spoken through gritted teeth. "_Oh I will_..."

"Erm..." Varric awkwardly cleared his throat, making Garrett turn to find his friends and allies look at him with doubting looks. "...how?"

"By fighting dirty, of course." Garrett grunted, making the dwarf and Anders chuckle in unison even as Aveline and Fenris exchanged arched eyebrows, at the back, poking her head out from over Varric's shoulder, Merrill grinned. "Aveline, I need you to run interference."

"Run what now?" Aveline grunted, sounding confused and hesitant.

"You're already where you're supposed to be." Garrett replied, smiling wickedly. "Widen the lines though, have your men form a good and proper formation covering the plaza from one end to the next. And then...don't move." Varric chuckled even as Aveline just looked even more confused. "If Meredith tries to barge though, you don't move, if she orders you aside, you don't move, if a _dragon_ lands right in the plaza...you don't move." Garrett smirked as he looked back towards the templars forming up on the plaza. "Let's see you enact your frontal assault with the guard blocking the path, wench."

"I'm not...comfortable doing that." Aveline grunted, taking a step back and crossing her arms over her chest. "You can't really tell me to-"

"I _can_, and I _am_." Garrett took a step closer, glowering down at her. "Or do I need to quote the law? 'In the event of a crisis where the Viscount is not available, the most senior and greatest noble commands, holding all the power and responsibilities until the Viscount can be contacted or a new Viscount elected.'" Garrett watched Aveline's eyes flash, then she lowered her head with a sigh. "Do you deny that this is a crisis? Or that I'm the most senior and powerful noble available?"

"No..."

"Good." Garrett whirled about, not about to allow any more arguing. "Then do as I command, Captain. I'd take you with me, but I need you to block Meredith's arguing as well as her troops."

"Oh joy, I love having people yell at me." Aveline grunted back.

"No wonder you're so dedicated to your job then." Varric snickered at the guards-woman, then turned his gaze to Garrett. "And now what?" He glanced back towards the large set of stairs leading up to the rubble that had once been the gate to the Viscount's keep. "Not exactly easy to get in there."

"There are other ways..." Garrett smiled back.

"Ahhh...another clever little tunnel?" Varric chuckled. "Knew I shouldn't have put on my good boots today."

At the back, Merrill's voice was a whimper. "Uh oh...boots?"

Even Fenris smiled at that.

8

8

8

"I think I stepped on something..." Merrill's disgusted whisper sent a ripple of nervous giggles down the narrow tunnel.

At the front of the group, Garrett didn't have much room to turn with two of his soldiers flanking him, but he still managed to throw a smile back. _Maker, I need you after this is over_..._it's not exactly how I imagined things would go after just the first month_.

"So..." Varric muttered in the wake of the waning giggles, no doubt trying to stop the silence from wearing on people's already tense nerves. "...do you know a tunnel to _every_ place in the city?"

"More or less." Garrett shrugged. "Before my time as a noble, I got around a lot, you know that..."

"Okay..." Someone, a soldier out of Garrett's view, muttered nervously. "So do any of these said tunnels lead to a place _not_ infested with crazy and armed people wanting to kill you?"

Before Garrett could reply, Varric snickered. "This is _Kirkwall_, son...be happy they're actual _people_ and not some three-headed dragon."

A chuckle spread across the tunnel.

Then it died when Garrett snapped. "We're here." Pushing forward, Garrett found the narrow door of smooth rock jammed, as he'd once left it. "Okay, Anders and Merrill, you stay at the back of the room, as many as possible of those who follow will then fill the room while the rest wait to fill in when we rush out. It should be empty, and if so we exit quietly, if not, we do so fast and hard." Garrett muttered, finding the wedge of old wood he'd once used to prop the door shut. "Pass that order along, quietly."

As the whispered order transmitted down the long line of soldiers, Garrett grunted a curse, pulling hard to release the wood from its fitting. _I really jammed it in there_..._and these gauntlets aren't helping_. Finally, with a little crack, the wood gave way, allowing him to toss aside the item and grab at the smooth stone, scrabbling for purchase, then finding it and making it slide sideways.

It wasn't even halfway open when Garrett pressed his way through and drew his sword, eyes wide as he nervously looked around himself._ Thank the Maker_! "No one's here, come on! They'll definitely be at the other end of the real door!" He moved forward, around the large desk and the many papers on it, and put his helmet on, the straps clicking shut one after the other before he readied his longsword. "Hurry up, damn it!" To him, his sharp whispers felt unnaturally loud, but he knew it was just his nerves amplifying things.

Looking back, he found a chuckling Anders and a wide-eyed Merrill move to one of the far corners of the room. Meanwhile Varric was sauntering forward, looking about himself with a smirk. "This is...Aveline's office?" He looked over to Garrett with an innocent smile. "Now why would _you_ need entrance to the Guard Captains office?"

"The old Captain once took a paper I needed." Garrett shrugged, not about to tell every tale of his adventures, even though he was sure Varric would gladly listen. "I'll tell you later, bloody man! Fenris, Maric, get over here! John! Ben! Leroy! Don't drag your feet!"

Swiftly, the room was being filled up, the tension increasing in it as everyone stared at the door ahead, at the door whose handle Garrett was gripping tight.

He didn't open it though, he turned, gaze sweeping over the assembled. "The office is just next to a hallway. We'll exit into a platform that has two daises on either side of a stair leading down _to_ the hallway, it's likely there'll be archers up on this platform. On the left we'll have the door leading to the outer defences of the keep, we will need to secure it before the Qunari can use it to bring in the majority of the defenders. If we fail, we'll end up having to defend it, as the Qunari no doubt are preparing to do." _That'll be a tough one_. "Once we've taken down any defenders and secured the left door, we'll have to head into the right one, which will take us directly the throne room, as likely as any place for the Arishok to make his headquarters. If he's not there, there's other tunnels within that can take us to various places in the keep, they won't be able to pin us down." Men and women blinked, the information too much in their stressed states, but there was still a hint of relief at the last words, wordspromising escape if all goes south_. Of course, if it does, not all will manage to reach those tunnels_... Garrett banished the doubt and growled. "But for now, _secure that left door_!"

Silence greeted him, silence and determined nods as his soldiers fastened their helmets and secured their shields onto their arms.

"We charge on my command." Garrett took a deep breath and twisted the handle. "One..." Pushed, nudging the door open. "...two..." Released the handle, hand instead gripping his shield tight as he drew his foot back. "...three!"

With a crash, Garrett's foot smashed the door inwards. It crashed against the wall and flew back, only for his armoured bulk to tackle it backwards once more as he with a cry charged forward, trying to take in everything at once.

He could just about see the upper edge of the large doors in the hallway below, and felt a flood of relief at seeing the left closed and secured with a number of beams resting against it. Down the central stair he could also see a barricade erected against any would-be attackers coming from the door. The mix of smashed chairs and tables created a surprisingly large chest-high wall, behind which what looked like forty Kossith warriors stood in vigil.

The platform itself onto which Garrett's warriors were flooding was inhabited as well though. On each side of the stair, the marble benches put up for visitors were now used to kneel on by numerous elven arches looking down at the sealed left gate with clear tension and anger. Even more were crowding behind the first row, so many it would be difficult to have them all capable of shooting at any would-be attacker coming through the gate, and there was no doubt they'd been placed there to replace the fallen or to simply strengthen the resolve of those at the front.

Then chaos erupted.

Below, in the hallway, a Kossith warrior shouted a warning, followed by one with a silvery helmet shouting a string of commands.

On the platform though, elves turned and paled, some screamed in terror, some turned to run, some raised their bows.

Garrett's soldiers rushed forward in a frenzy of released tension.

The first to fall was an elf, Maric bowling the shrieking woman over before silencing her when his teeth wound around her windpipe and ripped it out.

The second to fall was another elf, the man dying without a word as a bolt from Varric's crossbow smashed into his throat.

The third was one of Garrett's soldiers, a hurried bow-shot striking the man in the mouth mid-roar.

Then Garrett's world was reduced to what lay straight in front of him as an arrow skidded off his helmet and another clattered off his shield. Ahead, another elf was trying to shoot the Mabari that had just killed his friend, only for the dog to swat the man's legs with a powerful paw, bringing him down before pouncing with raging teeth. A third elf drew a long dagger and moved to pounce the Mabari, and then his breath wheezed out into Garrett's face as the noble crashed shield-first into the elf's chest, the tackle quickly followed by a high thrust that left the elf collapsing, clutching at his neck even as a stomping foot broke his ribcage.

Bereft of shields or any weapon fitting for the combat they were in, the first elves hurled themselves at Garrett and those beside him in desperation. One hacked at Garrett's raised shield with a hatchet like a madman, then shrieked as a falchion from one of Garrett's men tore his leg off at the knee. The moment the elf fell, Garrett's longsword thrust out, blade punching through leather armour and skin, making blood spew out as another elf's stomach was ripped open, the stench of his insides washing against Garrett like a wave.

The elves, behind hacked down all around, began to pull back, but there was nowhere to run.

Screaming in terror, one of the closest elves threw his dagger down and ran, knocking two more sprawling as he leaped on and past the bench to get over the railing behind. His scream was louder on the way down, but mercifully short.

Another, hesitating, moved to lay down his hatchet...and Garrett cut his arm off at the elbow, sending the man crashing to the floor in a shower of blood. _We don't have time for prisoners_. "For Kirkwall!" He rushed forward.

A hatchet aimed at his face slid off the angled metal of his helmet, the arm wielding it breaking as a swinging shield caught it at the elbow. The anguished face of the elf dropping the hatchet came apart in an explosion of blood as a hacking longsword split it in two.

A shortsword, thrust towards his chest was parried by a gory longsword, only for the riposte of the later to smoothly enter the elf's chest to the hilt. The blow lifted the woman off her feet before hurling her into another elf, sending both corpse and screaming man falling over the railing and into the barricade of the Qunari.

Eyes wide in terror, desperately holding a dagger in two hands for defence..and Garret brushed the weapon aside with his shield before hacking his blade into the trembling elf, nearly splitting the boy in two along his midsection and sending his corpse sprawling over the by now blood-soaked banister.

The platform was theirs.

Panting, Garrett looked to the right, finding the other side also taken, a gore-covered Fenris hacking down the two last remaining elves with an almost bored look on his face.

Then he looked to the left, and to his horror saw three Kossith struggling to remove the beams securing the door leading to the rest of the keep, the pounding coming from behind suggesting the reinforcement was ready to rush in. "Varric! Get up here! Stop them!"

"Bianca's on the case!" Was the reply, the dwarf shouldering his way past soldiers, something in his crossbow clicking loudly as the dwarf nudged Garrett aside to lean up against the banister. "Stand back, children, daddy's here." The sentence was punctuated by a crack, a high-powered bolt neatly slamming into the neck of one of the Kossith's, making the other two scramble for cover as their comrade writhed and moaned in agony, trying to reach the bolt deep inside him.

"keep them pinned!" Garrett whirled about and ran towards the stairs, only to find the press of troops there too great to reach. Instead he managed to reach the banister to his dais overlooking the stairs...and his eyes widened in shock before narrowing in frustration.

The Qunari were holding them back. Not even forty Kossith holding back nearly two hundred men in the narrow stairs. Half the Qunari stood at the front with halberds, the jabbing weapons shooting back and forth like the pistons of some dwarven creation, knocking or forcing people back with every strike if they were lucky, killing them if they weren't. The other half was nearly leaning atop the first few ranks, shields held high, creating an overlapping roof of blackened steel and wood. Some of the shield-armed Qunari had even pulled back, using javelins drawn from quivers leaning on the far wall to pelt the onrushing humans.

Even as Garrett watched, one of his men fell with a scream as a javelin caught him in the chest. Falling onto his knees more due to the shock than it having been a killing blow, he dropped his shield...and a halberd split his skull in two. Another, having tried to save the man before he was killed, instead fell as well, a halberd's tip slamming into his knee and sending him sprawling, a further three blows ending his struggles in the blink of an eye.

_Damn, they can't close with the enemy_! The Kossith were thrusting and slashing, the double row of halberds holding their foes back with a mixture of intimidation and actual killing power as the deadly blades held Garrett's men back. The by now steady rain of javelins only made things worse, making Garrett's men slowly lose ground and back up the stairs as they cowered behind their shields and tried to survive more than hit back. _Shit_, _no way to go round either_. Garrett looked down and winced at the sight of the elves that had fallen over the railing and to their deaths. Garrett looked to Varric and the dwarf's crossbow with a doubting look, weighing the importance of the dwarf's current job with what he could probably do versus the wall of halberdiers at the stairs...then shook his head. _Won't be fast enough, and the enemy will then help the reinforcement get through those doors_. Frustrated, he looked back towards Aveline's office, wondering if the situation was dire enough to summon the mages, then shook his head again and looked around in desperation. We_ need to break up that phalanx and_..._wait a second_...

Garrett smiled. "Soldier, help me with this!" The man turning from his frustrating job of waiting for his turn to help out with the fighting at the stairs turned and stared at Garrett like he was mad. "Don't just gawk! _Help_! It's bloody heavy!"

With a groan, the man moved to join...and then another one rushed in to assist, dragging and then, finally, pushing, heaving with all their might.

With a groan like a mountain shifting, the marble bench hesitated atop, then toppled over the railing facing the stairs.

Below, the more attentive Qunari at the back scattered.

The rest only realised something was amiss when their world turned into bloody pain and death, a quarter ton of a marble slab crashing atop them, crushing armour, breaking bones and evaporating all organisation.

"_Charge_!" The cry rose randomly from a dozen throats at once, and the humans poured forth like water through a broken dam.

A Qunari halberd speared the first man rushing in, the cruel weapon lifting the man up in the air and sending him flying over the head of his target. A woman, shield held too low, had a javelin slam into her chest, making her fall down onto it, driving the weapon even further into her and ending any chance of survival. Another man bashed aside the point of his foe's halberd, only to have the other end smash him across the jaw and fell him onto his back, the following downwards swing of the Qunari splitting the soldier's skull in two.

But momentum had shifted and Garrett watched as Fenris brushed aside a halberd's point, ducked under the swing of the butt-end of the weapon and then brought his greatsword down with a Tevinter curse on his lips, the blade ripping the Qunari's stomach open in a shower of metal scales and blood. The elf then moved to his next target, the Kossith with a silvered helmet, the Qunari's greatsword raised in a high guard as Fenris brought his sword into a low, feet shifting, bobbing like a boxer's while the Kossith's remained glued to the ground like a mountain's.

Near the left gate, the two Qunari that had ducked away from Varric's crossbow now made a valiant sally, rushing towards the nearest beam holding the gate secured...and one instantly fell, a bolt disappearing into his armpit. The second ignored the fallen and moved to push at the beam, only to drop onto one knee as another bolt shot out, catching the Kossith in the lower back. Groaning, the giant dropped onto all fours, trembling hand the reaching up, trying to grasp hold of the beam...only to fall as a third bolt shot out.

A Qunari deflected a human's blade with his shield, his own blade thrusting out...only for the human to duck under under it, his rapid back-hand swing separating the Qunari's hand from his wrist.

A human crashed shield to shield against a Qunari, axe sliding off his foe's scales even as his eyes widened in surprise as the Qunari blade he never saw bored itself into his gut.

A Kossith roared, swinging halberd sending three of Garrett's men stumbling back in fright...and then the Kossith was on his knees, a javelin hurled by one of Garrett's Rivaini soldiers embedded in his larynx. Still, the giant tried to raise his weapon...only to have it brushed aside by the three soldiers as they closed the distance and hacked the Qunari apart.

Three Qunari were driven into the back wall by the sheer force and numbers of their attackers, furiously trying to parry...only to fall as a multitude of swords stabbed into all three at once.

Garrett shook his head, forcing himself to stop staring at the brutality of it all...only to catch sight of a silvered helmet containing a Qunari's head rolling along the floor and Fenris standing over the corpse of the Qunari officer, his pale face marred by a trickle of blood pouring from the top of his forehead.

_Enough_. Shaking his head, Garrett turned and marched for the stairs, offering Maric a smile as the blood-soaked hound offered a pleased woof. Around him, grinning soldiers and even a smirking Varric hoisted their weapons high in a cheer as Garrett wiped his blade off on a nearby corpse and marched down the stairs. "Excellent work!" Around him, the hallway was awash with blood and bodies, some hacked into pieces. "You thirty! Man these barricades and let no Qunari pass!" Garrett waved those who had been at the front over to the left as he sheathed his blade and took his helmet off with a relieved sigh. _Might as well bring the fresh troops up_..._and these ones deserve a breather anyway_. "The rest of you, form up and make ready! None attacks unless it's on my command! Remember, I want to _avoid_ a blood-bath!"

"Erm..." Varric raised a hand, then pointed at the gore all around them, making a few chuckle awkwardly.

"Correction, I don't want _more_ of a blood-bath than necessary!" Garrett shot the dwarf an annoyed glare. "Happy now?" Varric just smirked back. "Good! Now, Fenris, what's the news on that door?"

"No surprise there." The elf grunted, pulling his blade out of the tough oak as he turned a neutral look to Garrett. "Barricaded, probably just like this one." _Damn_. Garrett glanced back, watching the other door shake as a yellow glow appeared again and again through the springs, the Qunari's Sarebaas apparently going loose on the door with their fireballs, but with little success. _Not the strongest attack against something solid, we're lucky the Qunari don't study magic too intricately_. _Though we're short on time and_...

"Merrill, Anders?" He hesitated to voice the names, yet the two came forth, one with a trusting smile, the other looking hesitant and disapproving at the door, then at Garrett. "I..." He bit his lip, looking at the gathered troops around him, at all the _witnesses_. "...erm..." _Shit_.

_Is this really enough of a crisis to warrant their use_? _Their revealing_?

_Can I really protect them? Who can I trust to keep their secret_? _Certainly not that many_? _And what of the nobles_?_ Even with them owing me their lives if I save them, will_-

"Erm...serah?" Garrett looked up at the voice, blinking in surprise at a soldier of Orlesian appearance, and judging by his short stature and poor excuse for a moustache, one nearly too young to have signed up with the other troops. The man was shifting from foot to foot, looking equal part nervous and eager. "Are we doing this or what? When will they, you know, magic the door away?"

Garrett's jaw dropped.

Next to the man, Anders and Merrill turned, staring at him in shock as the other soldiers looked on with a mixture of amusement and hesitance.

Blinking at the looks he was given, the soldier made a face. "What? That was...a secret? You know, if my time in Orlais told me anything, is that you can't hide anything from the servants...what, you don't think the people changing your clothes and doing your dishes don't find out about stuff? And gossip about it with us?" He swallowed, yet to his credit didn't take a step back. "With respect, serah...we already know, so you might as well let them rip and have it done with." A final shuffle of his feet, and he looked away. "Plus, I kind of want to see what they can do..."

At the back, someone chuckled even as Fenris gave voice to a loud snort.

"What's your name?"

The man that was nearly a boy straightened. "Pip, serah."

Garrett arched an eyebrow, making someone at the back speak up. "It's because he always peeps up when least expect it!"

A nervous chuckle spread along the ranks...and Garrett forced himself to smile even as he struggled not to think of the danger he and his friends had been in unknowingly for so long. "Well...in that case.." He took a deep breath and turned to face the two mages, sparing a smile for the prettier one and getting a dazzling smile in return. "Merrill, Anders...I'm thinking ice followed by rock, but it's your choice."

The elf and human exchanged a glance, then shrugged, the man growling something under his breath, then louder. "Fine, one dramatic entrance, coming up..."

Garrett nodded, smiled and handed his shield to the nearest soldier, followed by his helmet. Then he turned to face the door, hands behind his back, taking deep breaths as he pondered what to say and how to avoid the disaster that failure would surely bring.

As the air around him grew colder, Garrett felt a his resolve strengthen.

_I can do this_.

8

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8

_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for all the fun and games._


	65. Chapter 65

Shattering like glass, the frozen gate broke into tiny slivers of ice and splinter as it exploded inwards.

Taking a deep breath, hands gripping each other tighter behind his back, Garrett prayed his people would understand the need for staying quiet and still.

Fortunately, they did, and even more fortunately he wasn't greeted by a hail of missiles coming through the fog of ice-crystals and dust slowly settling before him.

There was only stillness, and a low whimpering, greeting him.

"Arishok?" Garrett, taking another deep breath, took a step forward, onto the threshold to the throne room. Then another, entering, keeping his face as calm as possible as he watched the room slowly become revealed to him.

The throne room was largely unchanged, the Viscount's banners still hung at the back, beautiful pillars still held up a high ceiling and allowed the room to remain open and spacious for the dignitaries that used to fill it. The throne at the far end was still massive and imposing, no matter who sat on it.

Yet none were sitting on the throne, and where once advisors to the Viscount had stood, ready to share their wisdom, elves with stringed bows glared at Garrett. Closer to the door, to the right of it, where dignitaries had once stood, nobles were lined up, on their knees, hands tied behind their backs and heads lowered as Kossith warriors stood over them. Their blades held high for a killing blow, eyes on Garrett, daring him to take another step.

Garrett stopped.

"Hawke." The Arishok stood a few feet away from the throne, his weapons leaning against it. At the feet of the throne, a black-garbed corpse lay, in the Arishok's hand, the head of the Viscount was held. The look of horror on the dead lord's face frozen in place as the Qunari leader raised his hand. "Your leader is dead." The Arishok casually threw the head before Garrett's feet, causing a string of horrified gasps from the nobles and even a few behind Garrett. "The rest of the 'leadership' of this city is under my control. You will act as their envoy, telling those outside the keep to stop their attack and to bring me the Tome of Koslun."

"I will not." Garrett brushed the head aside with his foot, keeping himself from cringing by focusing his gaze on the Arishok. "I _cannot_."

The Arishok narrowed his eyes, his men tensed...and then the Qunari spoke, a low growl. "Explain."

"You still don't understand us, do you?" Garrett asked, shaking his head. "That army outside? There's not _one_ single leader of them in here, the majority will _not_ obey any order to stop." Garrett shrugged. "As for the thief...she didn't obey me and bring the tome, why do you think she would start now? You're wasting your time here, and possibly your lives."

Leaving the Qunari to ponder his words, Garrett swept his gaze to the right, over the assembled nobles. Many were humans, but almost a third dwarves, all consisting of families, mothers, husbands and children all huddled close as Qunari blades hovered over them.

Near him, Charles Reinhart was pressing close to his wife Lowyn, the two of them nearly crushing a whimpering Cecei between them. Lowyn was staring at Cecei, as if trying to memorize every detail of the young woman, who in turn was staring at the floor, lips trembling and tears forming a puddle at her knees. Charles though, he was looking at Garrett with wide eyes, the normally so calm and intelligent man looking like a terrified cow at the butcher's, completely out of his element and at the mercy of elements he couldn't control.

His eyes were _begging, _for survival, for _help_.

Garrett turned his eyes away, unsure if he _could_ help, if it would be _enough_.

Instead he caught sight of Guillaume de Launcet. The man was also meeting Garrett's gaze, but his eyes were calm, almost _amused_, as if he thought the entire thing a joke and that Garrett would at any time reveal it for what it was. His wife, Dulci, was shaking though, so much she looked ready to come apart, the entire left side of her face covered by a massive bruise. Their son, the poor pale boy that had never seemed quite right in the head was lying at the feet of his parents, eyes dim, seemingly catatonic.

Then, the Arishok spoke. "I feared as much, and prepared for that."

_Huh_? Garrett tore his gaze away from the nobles and stared at the Arishok, whose steady gaze revealed nothing as he spoke. "If negotiations fail, and the negotiations with the threat of war fails, then we will proceed with _only_ war." Garrett frowned in confusion, and then found his eyes widening as the Qunari continued. "This keep has many a turret, mounting many a crude catapult. Even as we speak, _more_ saar-qamek is being prepared below us, we will launch it into the city from the keep, gripping the entire city in madness. Kirkwall will _burn_." Garrett, blinking, tried to find words to answer the madness even as the Arishok took a step forward, gaze as calm as if he was speaking of the weather. "And once it is over, once the city is depleted of all its people, we will enter it once more and search through it, no stone will remain unturned...until we find the tome."

_Madness, utter madness_... Clearing his throat, unwilling to say what he really thought of such a brutal plan, Garrett shook his head, tone hesitant. "You'd...do that? You might destroy the tome."

"I will either find it or not, by now it's either lost forever or just within out grasp, it is all or nothing, Hawke." The Arishok rumbled back. "I have accepted that."

"Sh-She could already be gone, left the city."

"And then, as we sift through the rubble, we will confirm that. If the Rivaini is not among the dead, we will continue our hunt."

"It would take months to identify all the dead!" Garrett exploded, still off balance at the thought of such a slaughter.

The Arishok's gaze didn't waver for a second. "We are a patient people, Hawke."

_Breathe_...

Garrett obeyed, and his heart steadied, his blood warming. "I won't let you do that."

"Yes, I surmised as much." The Arishok grunted, gaze sweeping over those assembled behind Garrett, then his own men. "We are evenly matched here, Hawke, may the Qun be victorious."

Garrett, sensing the tension mounting in the room, violence imminent, spoke fast. "Don't be a fool! Either we win here, or you do, but either way all your Qunari _will die_. You think you have enough time to prepare the gas and launch it into the city? Meredith and her templars will storm the keep at any moment and put _all_ of you to the sword!" Considering Garrett had recently ordered Aveline to block the templar attack, that wasn't true, but as sweat beaded down his back, Garrett felt willing to risk a lie. "And what then? The tome will be lost to the Qun _forever_, all who were on its track _lost_!"

The Arishok, staring into Garrett's wide eyes...grimaced, a slight twitch at the corner of his eyes. "That is...true." Just like that, the tension was lowered to a simmering danger rather than the panic of imminent combat. "But what do you propose? I _cannot_ leave without the tome of Koslun, the Qun _forbids_ it, and until I have it, I will _fight_ for it..."

_Bloody hell_... Garrett's mouth worked, but no words came. ..._I have no answer_..._damn inflexible Qun. I thought_... "You won't find the tome here though, the thief ran..." _Yes, that might work_. "Kirkwall, however, have many ships, and she no doubt took to the sea, we can-"

"Or you can just give them the book." Someone interrupted, making Garrett whirl around.

_You_!?

Isabela was marching through the doorway with an uncertain smirk on her face, a thick book of black leather under her left arm. "Got to say, was easy following you through that hidden path of yours when you leave some of your men hanging just outside it."

Garrett, blood boiling, pointed a shaking finger at the woman. "Take the book!" One of his soldiers, noting the stress in Garrett's voice, wrenched the book out of Isabela's arm. "_Seize her_!" Instantly, two more of Garrett's men stepped forward, grabbing Isabela's arms and wrenching them behind her back, driving her to her knees with a scream of pain.

Garrett, shaking with rage, began to advance on the woman. As he did so, he watched her panicked eyes staring up at him, then looking around for support among their comrades. Varric was glaring back though, one hand touching the injuries she'd caused, even though Anders had already healed them. Anders' gaze was dull and uncaring, Maric was growling, Fenris had an eyebrow cocked in interest, but made no move to help...and Merrill was looking away, ashamed and tearful.

Garret dropping to one knee in front of the woman, grabbed her by the hair, pulling her head straight. "Are you an idiot?!"

Isabela's gaze turned away from his furry. "I must be, I felt so bad I foolishly came back, didn't I-"

Garrett's other hand shot up, grabbing her by the jaw, _forcing_ her to look at him. "I should have you _hanged_!" Isabela's eyes, wide, stared back at him as he squeezed her jaw tighter, wanting nothing more but to crush it with his bare hands. "And I should tie the noose myself!"

"I...I..." Isabela's lips trembled. "...I'm sorry..."

_Disgusting_. Scoffing, Garrett violently let go of her and rose to his feet, wanting nothing more but to kick her for good measure. _Breathe_... Garrett, struggling with his fuming rage, turned away from the Rivaini. Instead he turned to hold the Arishok's gaze as he held out a hand, palm up. "The book." The soldier holding it hesitantly stepped up to his Lord and put the heavy tome into Garrett's hand.

Ahead, the Arishok's gaze, normally so calm, lit up in eagerness, eyes fixed on the book.

Garrett, angry enough to now feel completely calm about the dangerous situation, stepped up to the Arishok. "As a representative of Kirkwall, I hereby return to you your book, Arishok." He bowed his head ever so slightly as he with both hands held out the weighty tome.

Slowly, with a reverence Garrett had never seen in him, the Arishok reached out, gently gripping and retrieving the book. Gently, as if cradling a child, the Qunari next put the book across his forearm and carefully opened it at a random spot, gaze moving across the text...and his shoulders slumped in relief. "This is the Tome of Koslun."

"Good." Garrett growled. _All this fighting and death over a bloody book stolen by an idiot, this ends today_! "Then we can discuss the terms of the end to hostilities and you leaving this city."

"Not yet." _Oh for fuck's sake_! The Arishok looked up, at Garrett, then past him. "The thief comes with us." _Oh, well considering what you might have in store_...

"As you..." Garrett turned, hard eyes on a ghostly pale Isabela...and then caught sight of Merrill. The woman was _looking_ at him, through tears and disappointment with the pirate...yet the look was clear. _You got to be kiddin_g. "...no."

Varric's eyes flashed at that, looking at Garrett in confusion and irritation even as nobles all around the chamber gasped in disbelief and renewed fear. Most telling was the Arishok's droll voice though. "No?"

"No." Garrett replied, taking a deep breath as he shot Merrill a frustrated look before turning to face the puzzled-looking Qunari. "She is a citizen of _Kirkwall_, she is _ours_ to punish. I've defended your right to punish and rule your own people for three years, Arishok, I expect the same courtesy."

"_Courtesy_!?" The hiss exploding from the Arishok might as well have been a shout, given how unusual it was for him to raise his voice. The Qunari took a step forward, looming over Garrett with smouldering eyes. "She committed a heinous crime against the Qunari, she _must_ be punished!"

"And she will be..." Garrett, still enraged by Isabela and now irritated by Merrill's silent please, calmly glared back as he crossed his arms over his chest. "...but _not_ by you."

"That is _unacceptable_, I _must_ bring back the thief!" The Arishok was _shaking_, his body taut as a bowstring, his entire being like that of a bloodhound catching the scent. "You cannot offer me _half_ the way to escape this waste of a city and then deny me the _second_ part! The Qun _demands_ that I return her! Without her, I _cannot_ return!"

"_Tough_." Garrett growled back, eyes narrowing. "You play by _my_ rules this time, Arishok. You take this compromise, leave with the tome but _not_ the thief."

"You still don't understand _us_!" The Arishok's voice was rising in tone, his chest heaving with anger. "There _are_ no compromises! No half-measures or maybes! There is only the _Qun_!" Whirling about, the Arishok took three steps away. "Qunari, ready!" As one, the assembled Kossith raised their weapons, ready to slaughter the screaming nobles and begin the battle.

"If you do this, you will not escape! None of your Qunari will!" Garrett snapped, his rage growing with every passing second. _Idiots_!_ Everyone, idiots_! "And I will _personally_ burn your tome to ashes!" The Qunari stopped, the Arishok turning around to face him as Garrett steadily met his gaze. "Believe me, I _will_."

"I believe you." The Arishok growled, taking a step closer, frustration clear in his eyes. "You won't let us leave, nor fight, you're postponing the inevitable. There _must_ be an end."

"Believe me, I'm as frustrated as you." Garrett growled back.

In the Arishok's eyes, he saw that the man very well understood that frustration, even _shared_ it. They were standing six feet away, yet the gulf of cultural differences was endless between them. Garrett could _feel_ the Arishok wanting to compromise, to get at least _something_...yet the very tome he'd come for forbade it. He also felt his own need, to just bend once more to the will of the Qunari, to make Merrill hate him by getting rid of the pirate. Yet he also felt his anger burning in his veins, _refusing_ another compromise, tired of always being the one giving in, the one finding the solution and letting the other side get what they wanted.

He wanted to hit something.

"Even if battle does not come today, it will come another, the Qunari will return." The Arishok finally grunted, almost sounding...uncertain. "If you burn the book, the fury with which we will descend upon your city will know no bounds."

_You're trying to sway me with threats now_? _Although, my city, I don't want it_..._wait_...

The idea struck him, so strong he blinked and took a step back, making the Arishok cock his head to the side.

"You're saying that even if we manage an end to the fighting today, we'll still be at war?"

"Yes..." The Arishok growled, frowning in confusion. "...I'm compelled by honour and the Qun to cleanse this den of filth from the world, to bring the word of the Qun further."

"Honour? Funny, coming from someone leading a surprise attack on those who've fed and housed you for three years." Garrett couldn't help but snap out the words, though the Arishok simply scoffed back, unimpressed. "That said...if you truly have honour, then I'll give you a _chance_ to gain both your war and your thief." _And me a chance at escaping blame from Merrill and to keep my city intact_.

"What are you saying?" The Arishok was scowling at him now, interested but confused.

"I challenge you to a duel."

Among the nobles, someone guffawed at the notion while another whimpered in fright. Behind him, Merrill gasped in horror even as Anders muttered something sardonic under his breath.

The Arishok though, eyed Garrett with a curious look on his face, tone hesitant. "What...terms?"

"Whoever wins, this battle is at an end and your Qunari are free to leave the city via the north gate with the tome, no more killing will occur." Garrett steadily replied. _This'll be fine, Bastile has taught me well_..._the Arishok is bloody big though_... "If I win, you leave with the tome but without the thief and there will be _no_ further war between Kirkwall and the Qunari." The Arishok, now obviously interested, took another step forward. "If you win, the thief goes with you along with the tome, and we will consider ourselves at war."

For a moment, the Arishok simply stared at him. Then, he opened the Tome of Koslun once more, head slowly turning to look into the page he'd opened it. Though seemingly opened at random, the Arishok read the book with intense eyes...and then found his shoulders slumping in relief once more. "It is...allowed, I accept."

"Good, then we can-"

"To the death."

Garrett blinked, a chill running down his spine. "Huh? No, why would we do that? Surely a duel to first blood or even submission will settle the matter just as well as honour is satisfied and-"

The Arishok's steps were fast and angry, the giant stopping just short of barging into Garrett, glaring down at him with eyes glowing with intensity. "Do not toy with me further, Hawke!" The Arishok's face was twisted into a mask of rage, of _need_. "I _cannot_ return without the thief! I will take her back to Par Vollen or I _will_ die trying! There are _no_ other options! It is the will of the Qun and you _will not _deny me upholding my duty to it!" At a horrifying moment, the image of the Saarebas he'd once worked to rescue, burning itself to cinders, played before Garrett's vision. "Do _not_ doubt my dedication to the Qun! Do _not_ insult me!" Garrett took a step back, making the Arishok narrow his eyes. "This is how it must be, or you'll leave me no other choice..." He raised his fist...and the other Qunari in the room raised their blades for the killing blow against the trembling hostages.

Garrett, standing as still as a statue, stared at the Arishok's hard eyes, the eyes demanding his agreement. _I offered the way, and now he's set on it_... Then to the nobles, all staring at him in horror or up at their executioners, holding one another. _If they die_... Behind him, he could feel the others staring at him, a storm of different emotions and wants lashing at him, threatening to tear him apart. _Shit_. "Fenris."

"Yes, Hawke?" The elf replied, sounding curious about having been picked out.

Without taking his eyes off the Arishok, Garrett spoke. "The Arishok will send one of his men with you, you two will declare a stop to hostilities and the terms of our agreement." Before him, the Arishok nodded, making one of the other Qunari leave his group and head for the elf. "Make _sure_ Meredith understands that this is the decision of the acting Viscount." _She won't like it, but I'm sure the idea of saving some templars from the combat will help_.

As one, the elf and Qunari headed out the door.

Leaving Garrett and the Arishok facing one another, all eyes on them as Garrett took a deep breath. "Okay, Arishok, we have an agreement." The words coming out of his mouth felt surreal.

_Maker, what did I just agree too_?

8

8

8

"This is crazy."

"I'm aware." Garrett muttered back, feeling sweat bead on his forehead as he made sure his gauntlets were secure, then his pauldrons. _Maker, why am I so nervous_?_ I've fought before_..._sure, it's always frightening, but this is another level of it_...

Varric, leaning close, hissed the words. "Kirkwall is well-fortified! The Qunari are far away! War with them won't do much!"

"I can't be certain of that, the Qunari act differently than us." Garrett replied, taking a steadying breath as he drew his longsword and handed its belt to a nearby soldier._ Encumbered enough already_._ Should I keep the arming sword in the other belt or would it be too much in the way_?_ No, I need a secondary weapon beyond a dagger_. "Shield."

Varric was shaking his head though, leaning close as a soldier aided Garrett in strapping the shield onto his left arm. "She's _not worth it_...I'd hate to see you die for her!"

"Hey, I'm sitting right here." Isabela muttered, looking up from her kneeling position, arms tightly bound behind her back.

"I'm _aware_." Varric grunted back, loath in his voice before he turned back to Garrett. "Don't do this!"

"I must, or there'll be hell to pay for us all." Garrett shrugged, feeling his muscles tense and flex under his armour, a tension in them revealing the growing amount of adrenaline in them, wanting to be unleashed. "Don't worry, I'm no slouch in combat, right? And I've only gotten better, I stand a good chance."

"He's really _big_..." Merrill whimpered, the elf hesitantly stepping closer, seemingly unsure how close she was allowed to come, eyes darting between Garrett and the Arishok standing by the throne. "...like..._very_...I...I don't want you to do this..."

"Maybe I should sacrifice Isabela then?" Garrett snapped back, shooting his lover an annoyed glare that made her inch back. "No? Didn't think so, I..." He took a breath and felt his anger fade. _I might not see her again_. The thought hit him like a brick. "...I'm sorry, I shouldn't have...I'm sorry."

Immediately, Merrill moved closer, worry in her eyes, fear, but also love and trust. "It's okay, I don't want you to do this, but..." She glanced over to the still kneeling nobles, biting her bottom lip. "...but I understand."

"Thank you." Garrett, straightening, turned to eye the Arishok at the other side of the room. _Oh right, __that's__ why I'm afraid_.

The Arishok's plate armour was of blackened steel, making the already giant Kossith look even larger, enough to put him closer to an ogre than human in size. His curved horns, jutting out from a visored helmet of vertical bars in equally black steel, made him look like a demon from the fade, a monster of flesh, steel and bone. In his right hand he held an axe with a long spike at the tip and hooking blade at the back, while in his left he held a long one-edged sword clearly designed to cleave flesh and steel alike. Both weapons were nearly large enough to be a two-hander for a human, yet the Qunari easily held them with one.

Beyond all that, the eyes looking back at him through the Qunari's visor were steady, calm, focused, not a bit of fear or doubt in them...not a hint of uncertainty at facing the human.

_I'm going to die_.

"You can take him." Isabela whispered, the woman inching closer. "Just keep moving! He's big and carrying around a lot of weight, make him tire!"

_Make __that__ tire_?_ Yeah right_... Garrett swallowed, yet surprisingly found his voice steady. "Helmet." The soldier coming up knelt as he handed over the piece of armour, head held low even as he backed off, a reverent hush in his steps. Garrett, barely noticing the man, looked at the pale blue piece of silverite shining in the light. _Pretty, never noticed that before_.

"Emma lath..." Merrill was suddenly close, in front of him, looking up at him, eyes full of tears. "I...I..." She looked down at his chest, shaking her head with a sniffle, unable to find the words.

Garrett only hesitated for a moment. He reached down, finding Merrill's chin and lifting her face to look up at him.

Slowly, tenderly, he kissed her.

He didn't want to let go.

He wanted to stay there, forever.

Savouring her.

Yet, all too soon, he found himself letting her go, guiding her aside.

He felt hundreds of eyes on him, wide with wonder and fear.

But all he saw was the Arishok as he raised the helmet and put it over his head, his movements mechanical as he secured it to the rest of his armour.

Behind him, Varric shuffled in worry, though his words were encouraging. "Just remember, the bigger they are..."

"The harder they'll hit me, I know." Garrett grunted, not in the mood for jokes even as his reply triggered a few nervous chuckles among his soldiers.

A last look to Merrill, at her staring at him in fright..._beautiful_...and Garrett lowered the visor to his helmet and turned to face the Arishok.

He took a step forward, banging his sword against his shield twice.

The Arishok, having so far patiently waited for him, mimicked the action, his two weapons clashing together twice in succession.

And then, they moved towards one another.

They both stopped six feet from one another. The Arishok raised his axe high behind his head while his sword moved to point directly at Garrett like a spear. Opposite him, Garrett held his blade horizontally, level with his eye, resting the point at the rim of his raised shield as he lowered himself into a fighting crouch, presenting as small a target as possible.

Slowly, they circled one another, measuring each other up.

_His armour is heavier, but weaker, his weapons also_. _He's stronger though, making the weight a non-issue_. _He's bigger, longer reach_..._Maker, he's big_... Glad for his visor, Garrett nervously licked his lips, nothing but the Arishok filling his vision as he heard whimpers and whispers filling the room. _How did it come to this_?

There was no roar, no grunt, nothing to announce his attack, yet suddenly the Arishok's sword lunged with a feint, the blade filling Garrett's vision, blinding him to the silent axe coming down at him.

Garrett took half a step forward, brushing aside the sword as he raised his shield to block what he knew would come, ready for a return thrust at the Kossith's face.

Yet his riposte never came.

Instead, the room filled with gasps as Garrett staggered back, jolts of pain running down his left arm. _Maker_! Even turning the shield to deflect, rather than outright block the blow from the axe, it had come down with unnatural force. _He hits like a sledgehammer_!

The Arishok, lowering his weapons, cocked his head to the side at the sight of the staggering human. Perhaps pondering whether the stagger was a trick or a feint.

_Don't let them see you're weak, don't let them see you fearful, attack_! Bastile's voice, as real as if he was actually there, spoke in Garrett's mind, and he obeyed.

Gritting his teeth, Garrett darted forward, shield raised high in front of his sword, the blade darting out like a lightning bolt, the tip grazing the Arishok's plate-covered thigh and making the Qunari take a step back. Garrett pressed after, shield bashing aside a riposting sword before coming high again, shielding his sword...and then darting low as the Arishok moved to parry the blow that should have come at his legs, only to dart up towards his face.

Grunting, the Arishok pulled his head back from the thrust...and suddenly the hook of his axe was gripping into the rim of Garrett's shield, pulling.

Pulled off balance, Garrett twisted with the pull, spinning clockwise into the Arishok's left flank and ducking just underneath the Qunari's swinging blade as his own drew a silvery scratch along the Arishok's breastplate. _Attack_! _Attack_! _Attack_! Garrett moved to obey...only to be forced to throw his shield up as the Qunari whirled at him, axe smashing into Garrett's shield even as the Qunari brought his sword up for a backhanded swing over Garrett's now pinned shield.

Garrett's longsword darted up, parrying the blow of his foe even as the impact sent jolts of pain down his right arm. The Arishok, grunting back, stepped closer, not allowing Garrett to disengage from his awkward double defence on his left side, pressing down on him. _Shit, shit, I mustn't_... Garrett pressed back with a groan, while the Qunari was stronger, Garrett's lower height gave him leverage to push, leading to an equal struggle. _He can't_..._I must twist and make __him__ the one to stumble or_...

The Arishok's breath was warm, and _close_, the Qunari growling at him. "I will make it quick."

Behind his visor, Garrett's eyes flashed with anger. _You think you can just_-

_Pain_!

Garrett's left leg went nearly numb as agony laced through him, centred on the left side of his knee where the Arishok's foot had stomped down. Unable to stand on the leg, Garrett dropped down on his left knee, gasping, white lights dancing before his eyes.

"Watch out!"

Garrett didn't look, didn't try to turn, the stranger's shout making him _act. _Pushing off with his right leg, Garrett sent himself flying to the left, the ground behind him exploding into dust as the Arishok's axe smashed the floor the human had stood on a moment before. Garrett, rolling with the impact of him hitting the floor, got up into a low guard, wincing as he struggled to straighten, his left leg thumping with each beat of his heart.

Before him, the Arishok was already advancing, his gaze firm, unflinching, unafraid.

Desperate, Garrett lunged, sword aimed for the Arishok's left armpit. Only for the Qunari's axe to swing from high to low, parrying the blow and forcing Garrett's sword to his left even as the Arishok's sword came swinging from the righ-

_Pain_!

Garrett staggered and spun, his whole world seemingly turning on its axis as he felt warm blood trickle down his cheek and neck. Shaking his head, the ringing of his ears mixing with the whimpers and cries of those around him, he felt the dented silverite of his helmet press into his right cheekbone. _Maker_,_ I don't_..._by_ _Andraste_! The Arishok filled his vision, attacking before Garrett had even gotten his bearings back.

Instinctively, Garrett ducked and thrust out.

Before him, the Arishok froze with a grunt as his swing arced over Garrett's head and the human's longsword somehow darted in under the underside of the Qunari's breastplate, drawing a trickle of blood.

A cheer.

And then the Arishok's right foot kicked out, slamming into Garrett's shield, which in turn slammed into Garrett and sent the human flying backwards, clutching his sword as he crashed onto his back, rolled and staggered onto his feet.

Ahead, the Arishok was once more advancing, chasing the human down, wanting to crush him.

_Always bloody confident, aren't you_? Garrett snarled underneath his helmet, and moved to meet the Qunari. Again, the axe came swinging, ready to batter Garrett's shield once more, to batter the one _beneath_ it.

Instead, Garrett lowered the shield, took a quick step to the left and let his longsword swipe in a clockwise movement, joining the Arishok's axe and pushing it to the right even as the human darted forward, his lowered shield shooting up with all the strength he could muster.

With a crunch, the rim of the shield smashed into the bars of the Arishok's visor, bending several and breaking one with a spurt of blood as the end tore into the Kossith's jaw.

A growl, and the Arishok staggered back, right hand moving up, tearing at the helmet now worrying a piece of itself into the man's face...and as he ripped it off, more blood followed, spurting over the Arishok's breastplate as the broken bar ripped a cut up along the left side of the Kossith's face.

_How confident are you now_!? Garrett charged in. Twisting, he moved his shield to the left, blocking a blind thrust by the Qunari while smashing into his foe's chest, driving him back a step as his longsword barely missed his rival's exposed face. The now weapon-less right hand of his foe deflected the blow just in time even as the human drove the Qunari further back and away from his axe. _How much is that __honour__ worth now_!? Spinning clockwise and to the Arishok's right side, Garrett brought the pommel of his longsword into his foes' side with a crunch, denting the metal. _We could have talked it out_!

With a growl, Garrett brought the pommel in once more, intent on making a hole..only to strike nothing but air as the Arishok launched himself forward, the giant rolling with surprising grace away from Garrett, right hand retrieving his lost axe mid-roll. Chest heaving with breaths, yet eyes still calm, yet wary.

Somewhere behind Garrett, someone whistled, impressed by the feat. _Great, fucking idiot_...

With a growl, Garrett crossed the distance, sword darting low, then high, then high again, swinging from the left, right, below, then above.

Before him, the Arishok parried, his own blows coming from on high, axe, sword, sword, axe, axe, sword, right, left, right, left.

Armour denting, cracking, the flesh underneath bruising as blow upon blow rained down on the combatants, the air around them parting before the furious exchange of blows.

_Just die already_!

Garrett barely saw the sword when it came from low, barely felt the blow when it struck the inside of his left arm. But he saw the straps holding his shield in place snap, saw his numb hand let go of the grip at the side...and saw the defence flying away.

Someone cried out...and then the Arishok's axe swung at Garrett's exposed side. _No_! Garrett threw himself forward, into the Arishok, making only the hilt of his axe strike him...and then stars danced before his eyes as the pommel to the Arishok's sword smashed into the back of his helmet and skull.

He staggered, looked up, and saw the Qunari's sword descend.

_Pain_!

Fresh air, cold and crisp against his feverish skin, washed over his face as a broken helmet rolled before his blurring vision. Blood, scalding warm against him, ran down the right side his jaw and his neck, the dented metal there having torn a long ridge along his flesh all the way to his scalp as it came off. That...hurt...I... He staggered, blinked, turning his swimming gaze to the Arishok-

Garrett fell onto his back, limbs unresponsive. Above, the Arishok raised his axe...

_Fight, damn it_!

...and then staggered back as the human's revitalized leg kicked out, smashing a foot into the Qunari's crotch and sending him reeling back.

_Get up_.

Garrett struggled, but got onto his right knee, left side facing the Arishok as the Qunari glared back at him, the both of them gasping for air.

Garrett's eyes flickered to the shield, close, yet too far away, and the Arishok's gaze followed, knowing. _I need_..._I_..._shit_... Desperate, Garrett shifted the grip on his longsword, behind his back, his fingers gripping around the cross-guard, palm pressing against the flat of the blade.

With a groan, Garrett launched himself towards the shield, his body twisting mid-step, blindly hurling the sword like a javelin at his foe.

A crunch and a grunt...and Garrett was by the shield, his left hand finding the unharmed central grip, his right hand finding his arming sword at his hip, drawing it even as he straightened and brought his gaze back to the Arishok.

The longsword lay at the Qunari's feet, the Arishok himself having taken a step backwards, a visible dent in his already battered breastplate where Garrett's longsword had struck him like the improvised missile it had turned into.

The two combatants stared at one another, both wounded, both tired...both exhausted.

Growling something in his native tongue, the Arishok advanced, sword swinging first, then axe, arms wailing, raining blows after Garrett onto his shield that now blocked every blow with growing slowness as the arm tired. Before him, the Arishok's eyes lit up in something akin to desperation, the giant's strikes becoming more sluggish, more predictable.

_Just give me a moment of respite, a single opening, and_-

A crack, and Garrett saw his shield split in two, the hilt to the axe buried in it snapping at the same time, weapon and shield breaking apart and dropping to the floor with a clatter.

The Arishok thrust at Garrett's face, only to have the blow parried aside as Garrett stepped closer, ducking low with his left fist swinging.

A grunt, and the Arishok's right leg gave up, dropping him onto his knee as Garrett's fist moved away from the joint, only to smash back into the Arishok's face, sending blood spraying across the marble floor. The Arishok grunted, driving his sword upwards, trying to get past Garrett's parry, but the human twisted, forcing the thrust to stay away as his fist once more struck his foe's face, plate fist ripping skin and bruising flesh.

Then the Arishok grabbed Garrett's head.

Gasping, Garrett tried to twist away, only for the grip to tighten, the nails of the Qunari like talons, digging into Garrett's flesh, making pain like needles dance across his face even as his eyes widened in fear. _I can't see_! _I need that hand off so I can_-

A crunch echoed through the suddenly silent hall.

Then someone whimpered.

Another let lose a gasp.

A third, cried.

Garrett, blinking, found the Arishok letting go of his face, the tired-looking Qunari having a look of relief on his face as he closed his eyes, his voice a low murmur. "It's over..."

Looking down, Garrett found the Arishok's blade having punched through the outer end of his breastplate, and as he drew a rasping breath, he found blood gushing along the Qunari's blade. _I_..._I_... Garrett blinked, then shook his head. ..._must_... "Not..." His sword was suddenly heavier than anything in the world, yet he raised it, placing the edge against the Arishok's neck, making the Qunari's eyes flicker open in shock. "...yet." Garrett pulled the blade, slicing, cutting, _killing_.

Someone screamed as the blood spurted from the artery in the Arishok's neck, the man himself only coughed, hand letting go of his sword to reach up towards the killing wound.

He never reached it, instead he fell backwards, lips moving silently as life quickly left him, pooling around him in rapid spurts.

Garrett crashed onto his knees, hand letting go of his own sword. "_Now_, it's over..." The words rattled out of him, making his head swim as he watched his own blood pour down his body, mixing with the Arishok's. He reached up, clutching at the blade stuck in his chest. "It's _over_!" Blood, gushed, making his mind spin. "It's o...ov..."

Darkness.

Then light.

"Easy there, drama queen." Ander's voice was calm, yet firm, the glowing hands on Garrett's body holding him upright. On Garrett's left side, a whimpering Merrill was holding him, hands sliding across his stricken body in panic as an equally whimpering Maric came to sit in front of Garrett, staring at him with frightened eyes. "Stay still, this might hurt a bit..." Anders muttered, the mage gripping the blade stuck in Garrett. _No_...

"_Look at me_." Merrill's whisper was like a caress, her glowing hands bringing Garrett's head around, making him meet her gaze, making him kiss her.

Then, there was pain.

Garrett gasped.

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for her musical mind._


	66. Chapter 66

Isabela felt...empty.

_Why am I here_? _I should be out at sea by now, I was so close_... Yet, Isabela had cast a glance back, hesitated...and then turned around. More, she'd dodged a flood of fleeing ships just to return to the burning harbour, nearly getting killed in the process of just _reaching_ the Viscount's keep and those within. _Garrett's right, I'm an idiot_.

Yet for the life of her, Isabela couldn't bring herself to regret it.

It was hard, in fact, to feel things.

She just felt tired...as if all fight had been literally beaten out of her.

Ahead of her, someone having far more cause for exhaustion soldiered on, ceaselessly climbing the spiralling stairs he'd guided her to. Behind Isabela, his Mabari, silent save the clicking of his claws against the stone, followed. She almost missed his growling, the silence surrounding the dog and man more unnerving than the previous shouts and glowers.

Isabela still wasn't sure why Garrett had saved her like she did, it sure wasn't for love of her, and he'd only confused things further when he'd demanded of the other nobles, red-faced and raging at her, to be allowed to judge her personally. Isabela couldn't understand it.

Nor could she care. _I'm going to die_. The thought, pushing deep into her, seemed to wring all energy out of her. Instead of powering her, of making her run, to fight...it now paralysed her, making her as meek and weak as a child. It was all so..._different_.

Still, she had felt some amazement at the sight of Garrett, covered in his own blood, supported by two people revealed to be mages, struggling to his feet when he should be dead...and commanding the nobles, all staring at him like he was some ghost, with the utmost calm.

Somehow, everything had worked as the man had commanded.

Somehow, he'd convinced Meredith to stand down, to let the Qunari pass, as promised.

Somehow, he'd kept the nobles silent about the obvious show of magic before the Knight-Commander's entrance.

Somehow, he'd not only stopped a battle without further bloodshed, but a future war.

Somehow, he'd made all the nobles sing his praise and name unborn children after him with a mere cut of his blade.

Somehow, he'd kept going, shrugging off the supporting hands even though he'd looked ready to fall over at a stiff breeze.

Somehow, he'd risen above them all, a giant among mortals.

Or so it had seemed at the time.

Now his steps looked tired, weary, the armour around him nearly falling apart...yet still he went on, unrelenting.

Then, suddenly, they arrived.

As Garrett stepped aside, Isabela stumbled outside, confused eyes looking about herself. _A_..._turret_? The circular top of the small tower was crowded, most of the space filled by an ill-maintained catapult of old design, yet there was still enough space to allow Garret to lead her towards the side facing outwards, towards the city. _Is he going to throw me off the keep_? Isabela couldn't bring herself to care, though it seemed an odd choice for the man.

Slowly, her feet as heavy as boulders, Isabela followed, gaze on the man's back as he leant forward, resting his hands on the battlement as he gazed out over the city, dark rings under his eyes, face pale as a ghost's.

Then, three feet away, she stopped and waited, head tilting away, looking at the catapult, gaze tracking the grains in the wood. _It's kind of pretty_...

The silence bore into her, yet Isabela found herself welcoming it, embracing it, embracing the peace._ Time to stop running_.

"You choose your friends well." Garrett's voice was soft, a weary whisper. Isabela, too tired to reply, kept following the lines in the wood, waiting for the blow to come. "Without Merrill, you'd already be a head shorter, I assure you." Isabela, unsurprised, waited, knowing death would still come, one way or another, either Garrett would find a way, or Castillon would. "But since her friendship with you made me rethink things, I've thought of something better."

Isabela, eyebrows knotting together, wearily looked up, wondering what cruelty Garrett had in mind. She found him still looking over the city, now with his hands behind his back, pale face drawn with exhaustion, yet eyes unwavering, tireless as the mind beneath them worked like clockwork.

Then, he finally spoke. "You're a good person."

Isabela took a step back, too stunned and tired for words, shocked at the words leaving the man's mouth. _B-but I_..._I_...

"You're impulsive, selfish, greedy, thoughtless and a fool..." The man nodded while speaking, brow furrowing with an exhausted sigh. "...but a good person at heart."

Isabela found herself shaking her head in disagreement, her mind drawing a blank. _I_..._I_...

"Must be a contradictory existence, to have all those bad qualities, yet wanting good, at the end." Garrett mused with a low cough, looking down at the battlement as Maric gave voice to a tentative whine. "I've decided what to do with you, Isabela."

She knew she should answer, yet as Isabela's mouth opened and closed, no words escaped her.

Instead, she watched the man turn to face her, face unreadable, tone neutral, the gaping hole in his breastplate seemingly glaring at her, weeping dried blood. "How many families did you save from slavery when you defied Castillon? How many did you risk your life for, so selflessly?"

Isabela swallowed, a dark worm working its way into her stomach. Her voice, always so confident, now came out as a meek squeak. "S-sixty..."

The man nodded, dark eyes on hers. "Sixty..." There was no smile, no approval in his voice, only words, dull and foreboding. "...an admirable deed, you should be commended for it."

_But_...? Isabela felt it coming, dreaded it coming.

Yet instead, Garrett wearily raised his arm, waving her to approach. "Come here."

_I don't_... Isabela swallowed, taking a step closer, then stopping, her gaze flickering towards the city still mostly concealed by the battlements, then looked away and shook her head. ..._want_ _to_.

Garrett's face didn't change, only his tone, turning darker. "Come here, _now_."

Isabela, slowly, moved closer, looking down at her feet as she felt that dark worm in her gut grow and slither, making her want to throw up.

Then a hand was on her back, pushing her forward, making her press up against the battlement despite its apparent weakness."Look up."

Isabela obeyed...and then looked away with a wince, images of yellow fire still playing before her at the mere glance at the city. _I don't_...

"I said,_ look u_p." A gauntleted hand gripped her jaw, raising it, the firm grip and firmer words making her open her eyes despite every cell within her begging her not to.

She gasped at the sight, the blood in her veins freezing.

From the streets, it had been impossible to see the devastation left in the wake of the Qunari assault, but from the Viscount's Keep, it was before her in all its horrifying majesty.

The docks were on fire, seemingly every warehouse, massive structures of wood and stone, now torches illuminating the city with their eerie light. Further out, on the waters, dozens of ships were ablaze or sinking where the harbour was at its narrowest, the ships almost looking skeletal as they broke apart and sunk.

Along the route the Qunari had taken to the Viscount's Keep, there was darkness, like a scar running through the city, the fires that had started there having died out, leaving nothing but ashes in their wake. Yet all along the route, the fire had spread from thatched roof to wooden wall, consuming all in its wake, only dying out where no more fuel was to be found, either due to one of the rare open areas of the city or due to people having hacked down buildings in its wake to deprive it of anything but stone and mud.

Mostly though, the fire was simply spreading, like a living creature on ethereal winds, slashing and destroying with the same ease as a dancer's steps.

Worse were the _sounds_ though.

Picked up by the winds, screams of agony and terror swept up towards those on the turret, assailing Isabela's ears with their song of woe. Also, cruel laughs, the clash of blades, roars of men and women turned to beasts of terror and death, unleashed upon the rest of the city.

Isabela had been around death and battle all her life, but that was, above all, about _life_, about _survival_.

_This_, however, was something on a far greater scale, where life was blotted out by death and destruction, where combat was turned from poetry and adrenaline to terror and blood. She'd not seen such monstrous killing since the darkspawn, such vehement slaughter, such brutal evil-

The words whispered in her ear was a dagger. "This is _your_ doing."

Isabela's eyes widened in horror and she tried to take a step back.

Yet Garrett stood in the way, a block of steel that would have yielded to her with ease if she hadn't felt so paralyzed by horror, holding her fast. "One _million_ people are down there." _No_. Isabela tried to turn her head away, but the grip on her jaw was iron, the voice in her ear pinning her eyes open, forcing her to _see_. "How many families is that? How many are dead down there? How many have been enslaved? How many homeless? Ruined?" Each question was rapt, a blow that made Isabela whimper. "_You did this_."

Isabela tried to shake her head, but Garrett's grip and her conscience was too strong. Her lips moved, but only to whisper. "P-please..."

"You see it, don't you...? _You_ caused this." In Garrett's grip, Isabela trembled, the fires before her seemingly spinning, the world turning blurry.

"D-don't..."

"You _will_ go down there, you will walk down _every_ street, and you will _watch_."

"N-no...p-please..." Isabela shuddered. "I _can't_..."

"You _will_." Garrett suddenly let go of her and took a step back.

His voice echoed in her ears.

"For your own sake."

8

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"This is ridiculous!"

Cullen winced, embarrassed at the sight of Carver marching back and forth across the floor of Meredith's office, hands waving in the air.

"Utterly ridiculous!" The man shook his head. "They _attacked_ us! They killed _hundreds_! And Hawke _lets them go_!? And he's being made '_Champion of Kirkwall_' for it!?" Carver's fist thumped into his hip. "And we _let_ him do that!?" Cullen sat up straight, worried eyes moving to Meredith at the clear criticism. The woman's gaze was calm though, her elbows leaning on her desk as she rested her chin on her overlapping hands, watching the man come to a stop and throw her a hesitant look. "Erm...with all due respect, Knight-Commander..._why_?"

"He was still acting Viscount and had the authority to do this." Meredith replied, tone as calm as a placid lake. "Would I have let them go, had I not acknowledged this authority before? Probably, the Qunari are not Templar business, despite their heretical creed, holy wars are only sanctioned by the Divine."

Cullen felt an eyebrow arch, but didn't comment. Meredith was a frightening figure in many ways, yet fascinating, complex, with a set of beliefs set in stone...much like Garrett, Cullen figured.

He didn't think she would have appreciated the comparison however, her animosity of the man was not something she hid all that well.

Carver shook his head, sighing as his shoulders slumped. "I...understand that, I just...it's just so _immoral_ of him, to let them go after all they'd done." Carver looked away, grumbling.

_Are you taking a moral stance, or just disappointed you didn't get to prove your mettle_? _You looked eager last night_. _And when nobles started shouting for him to be made Champion_..._I'd never seen such a dark look_. Cullen didn't voice such words though, he was loyal to his brothers and sisters, loved them even, as a templar _should_...but sometimes certain of them...irked him. Instead, Cullen shrugged. "Peace comes at a price, I believe Hawke was looking to the future, rather than the present."

"Very true, it was the act of a statesman, I can respect that." Meredith nodded to Cullen, making him nod back. Then she turned her gaze to Carver, also nodding to him. "Though at the same time, I agree, it was an immoral act, injuries as those must always be met head on. "_Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter_.'"

Cullen grimaced, despite all he'd seen in his life as a Templar, he sometimes found Meredith's hard interpretation of the Chant problematic. Cocking his head to the side, he finished the verse. "'_Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just._'"

Meredith bowed her head, a pale smile on her lips. "As always, Cullen, you prove yourself a man of temperate wisdom." Not knowing what to say, Cullen smiled. "One can indeed defend his actions in this...as for me, I'm less interested in the battle itself as of the issues surrounding it."

"Knight-Commander?" Cullen frowned, confused.

"The apostates." Carver grunted, arms crossed over his chest, eyes on Meredith._ Of course_..._Maker, Carver has spent too much time with her and I too little, I'm usually the one who can read her best_. "There were a lot of them, wasn't there?"

"Indeed." Meredith sighed, looking away, with her office high in the near-finished Templar Keep, her window offered an amazing view of the cityscape. "However regrettable the death of so many at the hands of apostates revealed by the madness induced by the Qunari gas was, it does prove that the corruption of free mages is ripe in the city, despite all our efforts."

Cullen, barely hearing the words, found himself looking out the window, horrified at the sight. Despite the battle having been six hours ago, the fires were still raging in many parts of the city, sending pillars of black smoke rising into the sky. The dawn had not come with an end to conflicts, it seemed, and whenever Cullen had walked out on the battlements for some fresh air, he'd heard the screams as the citizen continued to battle each other for what remained of the city. The city guard and even the soldiers of the nobles were out in force, yet order had yet to return to the city. _We should help them_...

Meredith's attentions were elsewhere though, her gaze piercing as it looked to Carver. "There's even rumours that these apostates have infiltrated the nobility now..."

Carver, straightening, said nothing, though Cullen could see a curious conflict in his eyes, one the man blinked away with a glare. "Really? That's worrying."

"Indeed, it means that the only ones we can truly trust are our own templars, all others are potential puppets of these apostates." Meredith growled, brow furrowed in worry. "We need to be more active in our hunt of them, we need to be _everywhere_."

"With all due respect, Commander..." Cullen replied, hesitating as he found her hard blue eyes boring into him. "...despite the odd group of them we've discovered, we've found no central organisation or proof that they're all working together as a group. Most are alone or in pairs, hiding from us, rather than trying to fight us in any shape or form. So have your own studies of them shown, as written in our library."

"Yet the existence of this..._Warden-Apostate_ and his crooks aiding mages in escaping the Circle tower seems to imply otherwise." Meredith's hands clenched at the mere mention of the subtle agent that had for years now evaded capture and mocked them with every escaped mage. "They might not have _been_ organised, but he is _doing that even as we speak_, and that makes them more dangerous than any individual apostate we've ever been forced to hunt down." Meredith scowled. "The witch of the wilds might still not be captured, but even _she_ is but a minor nuisance compared to hundreds of mages hiding among common citizen and plotting our direct downfall."

Carver and Cullen exchanged a look at that, even Carver looking somewhat worried at the musings of their leader as he spoke. "What will you do?"

"What I've always done. My duty." Meredith snorted back, her scowl now directed at the table she sat by, thinking.

Carver and Cullen exchanged a confused look before the later stepped closer. "What my honourable colleague here meant was..._how_?" Meredith looked up at him with a scowl, making him shrug. "We are your captains, Commander, we can't aid you unless you tell us your plans."

Sighing, Meredith put her fingertips together and rested her forehead against them, looking tired for but a moment. When she looked back up though, she was iron once more. "It is clear that this city is full of corruption in the form of apostates, maleficar and possibly even demon-infestations. It is _also_ clear that we do not have the means of detecting it as we once did, these apostates know how to conceal themselves to our senses, for how else to explain so many hiding from our patrols? Thirdly, it is clear that the leadership of the city, with the death of the Viscount, stands in more question than ever before. With him, it was merely incompetent, _now_, it might _also_ be hiding the corruption we've discovered."

Cullen swallowed. _I don't like where this is going_... "I admit that it was a great surprise to find so many mages outside the Circle, but surely you can't judge things _that_ harshly? If we start suspecting _everyone_ in the city of this corruption, we will make no allies but plenty of enemies, which might actually make our job _more_ difficult. Perhaps, if we stressed the dangers of the mages in public and tried to reach out to local-"

"You are a man of reason." Meredith interrupted, offering the palest of smiles. "And I understand how you think, it would make sense..._if_ we had the luxury of such trust." A sigh. "Everyone is _already_ suspected of corruption by this point, trusting any single entity could now well spell the doom of the entire order, allowing blood-magic and demons to infiltrate_ us as well_."

Carver's growl of agreement echoed in the room. "It's us against them, we must find them all, and _purge_ them."

Cullen shuddered at the thought, the killing of apostates, whether terrified children cowering before the blade or vicious monsters, was not something he relished. "That is our duty, yes, but how we go about it is up to us."

"Agreed, and by now the situation is too dire for small measures." Meredith grunted. "As of now, we must take extreme measures."

Cullen swallowed. "_How_...extreme?"

"Our tranquils must begin work on making enchantments capable of detecting mages, these must be distributed to our templars, to better find these apostates." Meredith nodded to herself even as Cullen gasped. _The cost will be tremendous, and it's only useful if_... "The Arishok was willing to turn every rock of the city to find his book, so must we be in finding our apostates. We must quadruple our searches, and include not only homes, but people on the streets, those leaving and entering the city...no apostate must escape our notice."

Cullen's eyes widened. "Commander, the templars are unpopular enough as it is, if-"

"Don't forget Darktown." Carver grunted, the man nodding at Meredith's words.

The woman nodded back, face grim. "Indeed, heavily armed forces must go down there and find every wretch and check them for the corruption of magic." She shot Cullen a look. "We are not here to be _liked_, captain, we're here to do our _duty_."

"But-"

"Further, with the corruption of magic so clearly spread across Kirkwall, every noble, however clear of head he or she might be, could very possibly be controlled by a blood-mage or even a demon." Meredith shook her head, eyes distant. "That means that none can be trusted with the seat of the Viscount, where they could actively work to counter us."

Cullen gasped. "Commander! We can't try to take over the city leadership! People would revolt! The nobles-!"

"The nobles will do as they are _told_!" Meredith snapped back, scowling at him in anger. "I will not install some Templar government of the city, to appease them. But there will be _no_ election of a new Viscount, the seat _must_ remain vacant until I can be assured that the city has been cleansed of this corruption!"

"I'm not sure if the nobles will see it that way."

Meredith snorted. "Bah, the nobles? They know better than to challenge the might of the Maker and his servants."

Cullen hesitated, taking a step back. "Hawke might-"

"Yes, he might." Meredith scowled at Cullen, and then at Carver. "Either because of genuine conviction, or because of the corruption having reached _him_...we'll see, won't we?"

Carver hesitated, then nodded, face a bitter mask.

Cullen though, could only stare back in mute horror.

_This will not end well_.

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for cracking the whip._


	67. Chapter 67

Garrett was tired to his very bones.

The battle with the Qunari had weakened him, the duel with the Arishok nearly killed him. Yet afterwards there had been no end to his duties, each moment more turning his body heavier and heavier for him, making him ache for rest.

So he had passed through the night, marching from one end of the city to another, giving out orders, arguing, finding solutions, ceaselessly on the move, endlessly trying to bring the city to order.

And still, it had not been enough.

Riots and murders were still rife through the city, though most were now occurring in Darktown.

The fires were still raging through the city, the only reason for them diminishing being that they had already burnt so much of the city as all efforts to contain them otherwise had failed.

The city was still paralysed by terror and disorder, though now mixed with grief and horror as the extent of the damage became plain to all.

_So much to do_...

Yet now he'd found himself summoned to the Viscount's Keep, dragged away from his job in trying to slow a fire by hacking down an entire city-block, by Meredith and her unhelpful templars. _Thirty thousand men and women not doing anything to help, only adding to the chaos by chasing mages down the streets_...

Still, Garrett had heeded the call, knowing the importance of every moment now that the Viscount was dead. While Meredith was a danger in the matter, Garrett felt confident of the future.

He was still wearing his armour, dented and broken beyond repair. He could have changed into a replacement, but chose not to, thinking the damaged suit he now wore best for all to see...especially the other nobles.

Not that it was needed. Behind him, a crimson red cloak, clasped onto him by a noble crying with relief, to the cheers of all the rest, billowed after him like a banner of blood, signalling his new title for all to see. _Champion_..._it comes with no duties nor privileges, yet at the same time, means everything_..._respect, fear, submission_. Raising his chin high, Garrett managed to make his weary legs widen their strides.

To his right, an equally weary – and showing it in her pale face and dark eyes – Aveline shot him a glance. "Don't look so smug, or I'll push you over and see how good you are at getting up in full armour in your current state..." To Garrett's left, Maric gave voice to an amused woof at the idea.

"I have every right to be pleased, you two." Garrett shot each a look in turn, then shrugged, holding back the wince as one of the more pronounced bruises on his shoulder rubbed against a broken piece of armour. "The nobles were saved, Kirkwall is safe from further Qunari aggression and I carry a new title that'll surely make me Viscount. Calamity has turned to victory."

"To a price of thousands of dead." Aveline grunted, shaking her head in disapproval.

"Indeed, not to mention hundreds of thousand homeless and all manner of issues...I'm not blind, Aveline, I've been with you all night, you know." Garrett nodded, face grim. "We have a lot of work before us to mend the wounds after this, and I'm sorry about all the devastation, but that doesn't mean I can't be pleased about my own situation."

"Well you're not Viscount yet, and I'd be careful about expecting it handed over on a silver-platter..." Shooting Aveline a curious look, Garrett found the woman nodding forward, making him look...and cringe at the sight.

Ahead, the rubble that had been the entrance to the Viscount's Keep had been cleared away, men with brooms still sweeping away the dust and clutter on the steps. At the top of the stairs, at the gaping hole that was the Keep's current entrance, six templars in full armour and carrying spears stood guard. _Damn, knew all the city guardsmen are out trying to bring order to the city, but Aveline really shouldn't have left the keep in Meredith's hands_. Further in, he could already see more templars, spotless armour shining in the light as they stood guard over the stillness inside. _Where're all the scribes and administrators_?

Garrett, suddenly a sick feeling in his stomach, managed to widen his steps further, worry worming itself into his gut as he looked left and right, finding faceless templar-helmets staring back at him wherever he looked as he entered the keep.

"Captain, Champion." Garrett frowned at the templar addressing them, the man not even taking off his helmet for them even as he addressed them in the wrong order._ Ignorant man_... "The Knight-Commander can be found in the throne room with all the other nobles, you're late."

"We've been busy, Templar." Garrett snapped back even as Aveline snorted. Together, they brushed past the faceless man without looking back, ignoring the many templar sentries staring at them. "I'm sure you'll know how that feels like, one day." Next to him, a still soot-stained Maric growled in agreement. _Damn right, how many have you carried out of burning buildings this night, saving their lives_? _More than that sod_...

Onwards, the three marched in silence after that, always heading forward, not stopping for anything.

Around them, men and women were clearing away debris and other signs of fighting, though each stopped whenever Garrett approached, bowing their heads in respect.

More numerous were the templars, silent sentries standing guard wherever Garrett looked.

None of them bowed their heads.

Then, they passed through the last set of doors barring their passage, revealing the hall where Garrett's troops had poured in and slaughtered the Qunari defenders, the gate that had been shattered by Anders and Merrill's spells and whose debris was now nowhere to be seen.

Also, it revealed a gathering much like the one Garrett had faced only a few hours before.

On the right, the nobles now stood, rather than knelt, their hands unbound, their clothing clean...yet all still looking roughed up and afraid, like captives. All around them, silent templars in full armour stood, hands on the hilts of their sheathed swords, statues as unflinching as the Qunari, yet at the same time, more dangerous, more _unpredictable_. Further up the steps, Knight-Captains Cullen and Carver stood. One looked unsure, the other was glaring down at him with a heat that made Garrett stumble._ I know you don't like me, but_..._Maker_...

Yet, none of that seemed to matter as Garrett looked past them, to Meredith atop the dais...and the white mark where the Viscount's throne had once stood.

He came to a stop, head held high, anger already swelling in his chest. "What is the meaning of this!?"

"Champion." Meredith bowed her head in respect, tone cool. "I have called you, and all the nobles here assembled, to announce that in the wake of-"

"_Where_ is the Viscount's throne?" Garrett snarled, taking an angry step forward, eyes aglow with rage. "How _dare_ you remove it?! It's _not_ within your authority to do so!"

"It's within my authority to do _all_ that's _necessary_ to protect the world from the corruption of magic and its users." Meredith snapped back. "_Don't_ interrupt me again. Now, as I-"

"You cannot and_ will not_ order me about, Meredith." Garrett growled, not about to be intimidated. To his right, he felt several of the nobles shirk back in fright even as they stared at him in something akin to fascination. "I'm a Champion of Kirkwall, I'm a noble of Kirkwall, I'm citizen of Kirkwall, _not_ one of your templars!" He shook his head, vision swimming with exhaustion from his furious words as the exhaustion from the many hours of work nearly became too much. He kept his voice strong though, despite it feeling raw already. "I only heeded your summon as a matter of courtesy, as, I'm sure, did all the rest here. You_ do not_ order us about, _especially_ not here, at the heart of secular power in Kirkwall...or have you forgotten who we answer to?"

"To the Viscount, who's now dead...or so you think you do." Meredith snorted, then looked over at the nobles, raising her voice. "For in the end, we all answer to only _one_ power, and that is the _Maker_!" She looked back to Garrett, expression cold. "And by _that_ authority, I speak, and you listen, no matter _who_ you are."

Garrett opened his mouth to answer, but Aveline was quicker. "Forgive him, Knight-Commander, he's had a long day. That said, he _is_ correct, he does not have to listen to you, nor does he answer to you." She paused, sighing. "Neither do I."

"You've already made that _abundantly_ clear." Meredith scowled at Aveline, then shot Garrett a glare for good measure, one he returned in kind. "However, if I'm allowed to finish, we can all go about our business so much quicker...agreed?"

Silence.

Then Garrett, reluctantly, looking left and right at the many templars, then at the frightened-looking nobles, nodded, body tensing again and again as he felt his goal slipping out of his grasp.

Below Meredith, Carver smirked.

"Good." Meredith straightened, smile polite. "As I was saying, in light of the exposure of so many apostates, maleficar and demon-worshippers in the city of Kirkwall, I've decided to invoke marshal law."

Across the room, people gasped at the words.

Aveline, shouted out a curse and a protest.

Garrett remained silent though, gaze _fixed_ on Meredith, watching her every move as she ignored him and spoke to the crowd. "None will be allowed outside by nine in the evening. Anyone caught will be assumed to be trying and escape justice and will be tried accordingly. Further, the templars will now assume the role of patrolling the city walls, docks and gates, anyone wishing to enter or leave must be checked by these templars for signs of the corruption that is magic."

Charles Reinhart shouted a protest.

Aveline was shaking her head.

Garrett clenched his fists in silence even as Maric gave voice to a low growl.

"Further, given the ease with which the former Viscount was killed and his nobles captured, and considering the danger of the corruption of all these hidden apostates affecting them, elections for a new Viscount is _postponed_ until further notice!" Meredith looked over to Garrett, coolly meeting his furious gaze."So is my word, and so is the will of the Maker."

"_So is the will of the Maker_." Every templar in the chamber chanted as one, silencing all protests throughout the room.

All but one. "You now claim to speak for the Maker?"

"I interpret his will through his texts and the situation at hand." Meredith scowled at Garrett, who glared back.

"And you invoke marshal law? Postpone elections? The former is only for a Viscount to decide, the later only for the council of nobles."

"Nobles potentially corrupted are not fit to make such decisions." Meredith snapped back. "Until I'm satisfied that no demon-worshipper will come to rule the city, no noble can be elected Viscount." She offered a small, yet honest, smile. "This is for your own protection."

_So speaks every tyrant_. Garrett grit his teeth even as Aveline spoke up. "This is too much, Knight-Commander, the Divine would not sanction such a thing, and when other nations hear of this seizure of power, the Templar order will find themselves unwelcome everywhere."

"I must agree." Charles Reinhart spoke up, shaking his head. "This is a city of _commerce_, not mage-hunting, if you go ahead with these plans to check everyone entering the city you'll cripple her even _before_ taking into account what a lack of a Viscount will do to public order and international relationships."

Meredith only smiled at the man though, voice soft. "Do you think commerce more important than the will of the Maker?" The man grimaced and looked away. "I didn't think so."

Garrett couldn't keep the question from bubbling out of him. "And what of the treasury?"

Meredith, grimacing as she remembered their previous arguments about her debts, shot him a look. "It'll be protected by the templars, allowing none potentially being corrupted by apostates to use it for some insidious plan."

_And what of corruption of a more regular sort_? _That of a Knight-Commander needing money for her plans_? It was laughable, but Garrett didn't laugh, nor scoff, only narrow his eyes as all around, men and women exchanged worried looks. "So you appropriate the Viscount treasury, refuse elections to be held until whenever you deem it fit. Will you then use this money to repair the city? To fix the-"

"That is not the duty of a templar." Meredith scoffed, looking away.

"But to take-" Garrett went silent, finding Aveline's hand on his arm, the woman's gaze warning him. Beyond her, many templars looked tense, the nobles _frightened_. "I...see." Garrett took a deep breath, then another. Before him, Carver's wide smirk as he _looked down on him_ made Garrett's body shake with fury. Next to him, Cullen's constantly apologetic look made his insides knot with rage. And beyond them both, Meredith's cool confidence in the validity of her actions made Garrett boil, wanting to do nothing but to rip her limb from limb. "As you command, Knight-Commander, so shall it be."

Garrett bowed, feeling cold rage grow larger and large within him.

His voice was but a whisper, yet carried through the room. "For now."

With that, he whirled about and marched out of the chamber, whispers of shock following him as he felt multiple gazes bore into his back like daggers. He didn't care, he marched on, cloak billowing behind him, Guard-Captain and Mabari flanking him in foreboding silence as he glared into the distant future.

_This isn't over, I __will__ be Viscount._

8

8

8

Merrill frowned in worry as she hugged her knees through the duvet, the soft bed underneath her for once not dragging her to sleep within an instant of getting into it.

The reason stood a few feet away, leaning on the frame of the open window to their chamber as he gazed out across the city.

"Come to bed, ma sa'lath."

The endearment came easily from her, which still shocked Merrill. Everything about her and Garrett was still so new to her, so _frightening_, so _exciting_, so _confusing_. She now slept in a palace, tended to by servants, loving a human, a noble of a city of stone and steel. It was as far away from her existence as Dalish as one could get, yet she couldn't regret any of it. She still had her place in the Alienage, but she only went there to work on the mirror, a thankless and frustrating job she only kept at due to the spirit Dhavine's assurance that she _could_ indeed fix it. And even that work was now only at the back of her mind as the new world she was in, the new relationship, seemingly consumed her every waking hour.

She'd only been with him for a few months, yet it felt like the mere blink of an eye, a moment of great change and upheaval that left her breathless just thinking about it. _I love a human, I live with him, I'm_..._happy_.

Of course, at the moment, she was mostly worried. "You need to sleep."

"I...can't." The man grunted, refusing to turn around. He still wore his horribly damaged armour, his blood still staining it, the armour doing nothing to protect him now, only weighing him down. Adding to the weight, the red cloak fastened to his shoulders, too large for _any_ man, was draped across his back, seemingly trying to drag him to the floor like some hungry animal. "There's too much to do."

"From...the window?" Merrill asked, offering a pale and unsure smile as she let go of her legs. "There's only so much you can do, love, come to bed...I know you're mad about Meredith-"

"_Don't_ mention her, not in here." Garrett snapped, still not turning even as Merrill shirked away, a little frightened by the man's depression. "And I can't do much about that, now...but...just look outside..." Merrill grimaced, knowing fully well what he was referring to. "There's still riots in Darktown..."

"Yet Aveline still sleeps." Merrill softly replied, slipping out of the sheets, shivering in her thin nightgown as the fuzzy carpet welcomed her feet. "While Donnic takes care of it with the guardsmen and some of your own, you don't need to be there."

"That fire..." Garrett grunted, as if he hadn't heard her. "...still it goes on..." he nodded towards an orange glow in the distance. "...we can only guess the number of homeless people now...and yet that fire goes on."

"It's dying, no place to go..." Merrill replied, sighing as she stepped closer to the man's back. "...and your friends are all safe. All greater nobles are at their summer-houses as their servants rebuild, and all the homeless minor nobles are welcome in our home...they'll owe you a great debt, I thought you'd like that."

"And what of the rest? We have maybe two hundred thousand people out there without homes...and when the winter-rains come..." The man sighed. "They'll die, if they're lucky."

Then Merrill reached him, hands softly sliding over the man's cloak-covered back as she grimaced in horror at such terrifying numbers. _I'll be strong though, he needs it_... "There's two months until then, they can be saved...but not tonight, okay? You can't do more tonight."

The man, still not turning, let his head drop low with a grunt. "Meredith has the treasury, the city won't be rebuilt by anything but donations. She's dissolved all administration, I...everything is afloat, nothing will work without redoing it all from scratch, and without public taxes to drive it..."

"Money isn't everything." Merrill cooed, fingers finding the clasps to Garrett's cloak. "You have many friends, many of the city, all willing to help out...tomorrow." With a soft rustle, the cloak fell off the man's back and formed a little pile on the floor.

"And what happens when that willingness falters? When the double taxation of needs for us and the demands of the templars drive people into ruin? What about when trade stops coming in due to the draconian laws imposed on all who visits? What when-"

Merrill silenced the man by pressing into his back, a finger finding his lips and stopping them from moving, her other hand moving over the broken armour, finding clasps and buttons. "Hush... I said..._mahvir_, think about it then, when you've rested."

"I can't rest..." Garrett groaned...and a piece of loose armour clattered as it fell to the floor, followed by his breastplate as Merrill found the last clasp. "...I must-"

Merrill gasped in horror.

The man's back was a dark blue where the sword had entered his chest, the Arishok's blade having punched out the back, and despite Anders' healing, the wound looked ready to burst at any moment. "Merrill, it's nothing..."

Ignoring the man, Merrill found her eyes prickling with tears as her hands made him turn to face him, to look at her as she pulled a gauntlet off his hand, finding the skin there marred by two scars where the metal had bent inwards from some blow. "Y-you...by Mythal..." She tore the loose armour along his arm off all too easily, the pieces crumpling revealing bruised and bloodied skin, the cuts along it not yet fully healed despite all of Anders' work.

"You don't have to..."

Horrified, Merrill tore at the armour on his other arm, wrenching it off and revealing a horrible bruising along his left shoulder and elbow, the arm seemingly hanging limp now that Merrill had torn the armour holding it together off. Tracing her fingers over the injuries, hearing Garrett wince in pain, she couldn't help but stare at the massive scar in his chest, the mark of the blade that had nearly taken the man from her...and felt her cheeks turn wet with tears.

"I'm really fi-" A hand reached for her hair, but Merrill slapped it aside as she crouched, pulling at his dented greaves, loosening them and tossing them aside, then moving for his boots, making more and more pieces fall to the floor. All along his body, bruises and cuts were revealed, a maze of destruction and pain, worst of all being a massive bruise across the man's left knee, large enough to make the woman wonder how the human could even stand on it.

"You're _not_ fine." Merrill looked up at Garrett, blinking the tears away as best she could. "H-he nearly killed you...b-because of...b-because I..."

"D-don't..." Garrett shook his head, the now naked man shivering as he reached down, running a hand through her hair with a soft look on his face. "...it was _my_ decision."

"My fault. You made it, my fault..." Merrill shook her head, looking across the many injuries in horror. "...I...I'm such an idiot, I...I don't...I shouldn't be near you, all I get near, a-all I..." A finger appeared on her lips, silencing her as she had him.

Garrett was smiling at her. "And I love you, idiot."

"Ma Vhenan..." Merrill swallowed, her legs turning to rubber even as she somehow managed to rise to her feet. "...come here..." She pulled him, as gently as she could, into bed, then, hesitating...she moved to join him, her hands sliding over his warm chest. "I love you."

The man's voice was a low rumble, tired, yet he was holding her, _wanting_. "And I you."

Silently, without word, Merrill slid atop him, her nightshirt rustling as she tossed it aside and straddled him.

Garrett, too tired to move, looked up at her with soft eyes, making her smile back.

A little gasp...and then she was moving against him, softly, gently, slowly.

Around them, darkness descended as the great fire outside slowly died out.

Whimpering, Merrill closed her eyes and leant forward, pressing her face into Garrett's chest as she shuddered against him, mind spinning with each little movement of her hips.

For an eternity, she moved.

Then she stopped, the stars suddenly dancing before her vision appearing so suddenly she could do nothing but gasp in surprise as tingles ran down her every nerve.

She continued to move...and a moment later Garrett sighed, his warmth filling her up.

Silence.

Then a whisper.

"Marry me."

And a reply.

"Yes."

8

8

8

_Thank you to Abydos Jackson for all the days and the words. _


	68. Chapter 68

"Help..."

Anders, with the speed of an expert, noted the man's injuries and put a mug of water next to him. "You can drink it on your own, finish it and then go to sleep, I'll tend to you when you do." It was a lie, the man didn't need any further treatment, only rest, but the words had the desired effect, making the man nod with a grateful look on his face and grab the cup with a clumsy left hand, his right nothing but a stump now.

Moving on, Anders found himself taking deep breaths, sweat running down his body inside his by now itchy robes. _When was the last time I slept_? It was a question to cause confusion. Justice still didn't understand the concept of rest, and it was hard for Anders himself to...remember. _I dozed three weeks ago, I think_..._feels like I need more by now though_.

It had been less than a week since the Qunari attack, and still the injured were pouring in. Shy, frightened of the apostate...yet they still came as word of the healer's work spread further and further. Before, it had been but Darktowners coming to see him, but now people from Lowtown, even those from Hightown that were down on their luck, came to him if they could find the way. _And with each injury healed, with each life brought back from the brink of the abyss, the words of the Chantry ring a little more hollow_.

The thought was invigorating, making Anders shake off some of the weariness, eyes becoming more alert to find those in true need of help as he made his rounds through his most recent hospital. _Thank you, Justice, I wasn't myself, I know we must not grow weak, not while injustice reins_. Somewhere deep within him, the spirit growled in a mixture of agreement and anger._ I know, we shouldn't be hounded like this, not now, templars know no mercy_...

Anders' current hospital was the third that week. The templars had come to Darktown in force, hunting for apostates, and him in particular. _But they won't find us, people protect us, people who see the truth of our words, of how the world is shaped against us_. Anders passed a severely burnt woman rolling in pain in her bed, eyelids pressed together...and a wave of his hand made her stop, her breathing returning to normal as sleep was forced upon her agony-filled mind. _Of course, if others hadn't betrayed our location, we wouldn't have __had__ to move...normal people, always them, no matter how enlightened, think us different, think it's just to sell us out for some morsel or coin_..._not even Garrett truly thinks us right_.

Clenching his fist as he walked, Anders found the world shift into hues of blue as the anger coursed through him. _What right do they have to think less of us? To exploit us?_ _To judge us? Are we not flesh and blood, like them_?! In the back of his mind, Justice nodded, silent and brooding, enraged by the way the templars had been hunting them of late. W_ar will come, as certain as the sun rises, it'll come_..._and it'll be a war of reckoning, if people won't accept us for who we are willingly, we'll __force__ it upon them_!

Suddenly, Anders came to a stop as he nearly barged into a small boy, the child all skin and bones, staring at his eyes in fright. "What do you want?" Anders snapped and shook his head, some of the blue hue across his eyes fading as he took a deep breath.

Before him, the boy took a step back, shaking as he raised a fist, holding up a dandelion. "T-thank you f-for h-helping m-my si-sister..."

Anders, shoulders sagging, forced himself to smile, the action pushing aside some of the rage boiling inside of him. "Quite welcome, child..." He took the weed that was the closest thing to a flower Darktowners knew of, not in the least surprised when the child ran off, too frightened to stay. "...quite welcome."_ I'll put this in a poultice when I have the time._ A dry chuckle escaped Anders as he pocketed the weed._ Not sleeping, yet there's never enough time_...

"Bless the Warden, and bless all the children of Darktown..." Glancing over to a woman on her knees by her bed, her left leg nothing but a stump, Anders winced at the woman's prayer. _Do I even have a soul to pray for_?_ Was it destroyed_? _Or is it now with the Maker_? _Is__ there even a Maker_...? Not even Justice could provide an answer, only that there was something. If it was the Maker, or some darker power, no spirit knew. "...and bless the Champion, Maker, please."

Anders moved on, frowning at the woman's last words. He'd heard similar things spoken by many of his patients during the last couple of days, and even as he strained his hearing, he could hear hushed conversations in dark corners of the room.

"Did you see him walk around as the city burnt? Looked like the dead, yet he kept going, leading the work..."

"Didn't manage to save my house, but that dog of his pulled my brother out of the debris..."

"Haven't had a champion in decades, things are looking up, I tell you..."

"Better than the rest of the lot combined, I tell you..."

"Sent the Qunari packing all by himself, he did..."

"Killed the Arishok..."

"Saved the city..."

"Rescued me..."

"Champion..."

"Hero..."

The man's name was on everyone's lips, but it was a legend, a tale...not the real man, yet at the same time, it _was_ his accomplishments, though cast in too long a shadow, a caricature. _Varric's work_..._and his own, he __does__ deserve the title, after all_. Anders hadn't known many people more capable than Garrett Hawke – Lynn had been the only one – but at the same time, Anders couldn't rejoice at the praise his ally was receiving, only feel a grim satisfaction and sense an opportunity.

_He's no friend_. Anders liked to think the man thought Anders one, but in the end they were just too different, and a man with a cause like Anders' couldn't afford friends like others could. Yet at the same time, they were allies of practicality, the two working well together on the battlefield and making good use of one another when needed elsewhere. _He's not the ally he should be to mages, yet at the same time, he's an enemy of the templars, I can make that work to our advantage_... The thought made Anders smile. _What better symbol of mage-liberation than a non-mage fighting for them_?_ Yes, I'll make an ally out of you yet, Garrett, whether you like it or not_...

Sighing, his work never seemed done, his plans never coming to fruition, Anders moved on, gaze darting to his newest nurse with an arched eyebrow.

Isabela looked tired.

Her white tunic was still stained by blood-splatter from her assisting Anders' latest surgery, her skin having a feverish look to it, glistening with sweat, her posture sloping and speaking of a deeply-rooted exhaustion.

Worst though, were her eyes, dull, dark rings under them and seemingly bereft of the usual spark..._serious_.

_Not like her._ Anders couldn't believe she was still there. She had been for the last four days, ceaselessly assisting Anders despite him expecting her to leave at any moment. He'd asked her _why_ she'd offered to help, but the only answer he'd gotten was a deeply haunted look that had silenced any further questions.

He'd even tried humour, making a sordid nurse-joke, the kind she'd like...and the woman had merely chuckled, dutiful rather than amused.

At the moment, she was stitching a long cut along a young teenager's arm, and as she was bending over to do so, the boy was staring with wide and hungry eyes down her tunic, seemingly lost to the rest of the world. _Figures_..._damn, one day I'll end up fixing her back-problems_. "It's not polite to stare, boy."

The teenager's gaze darted away like a rabbit, his face turning crimson. Isabela only shrugged though. "I don't mind, keeps their mind off the pain." Even as she spoke, the boy suddenly winced as she finished the suture. "There, all done." Grunting, Isabela struggled to rise, hands moving back to rub the small of her back. "These beds are too low..." A sigh, dull eyes moving to look to Anders. "Got another patient for me?"

"Always have more." Anders grunted back, then shook his head as Isabela moved to follow. "When was the last time you slept?"

The dark eyes looking back at him were dull, the lips drawn into a pale smile. "When was the last time _you_ slept?"

_Spirits never rest_. "Don't change the subject." Anders growled, making Isabela sigh and avert her gaze. "I need my nurses rested and alert, not fumbling up when lives are on the line. What kind of fool would allow people holding people's lives in their hands to get so tired? I'm _not_ one of them,so you _will_ rest."

"Is that an order?" Isabela almost smirked. "Because I don't take kindly to..." A sigh, and she shrugged. "..actually, sure, why not? I'll grab a corner or something..."

"Take my bed." _Never use it anyway_. Anders sighed. "And sleep well, I need you if even more people come pouring in...it's a disaster, I tell you."

"Well...can't get any worse, right?" Isabela shrugged, her smile strangely hurt.

"Oh believe me, it can _always_ get worse." Anders grunted, then nodded. "That said, yes, I think the worst is over after this little battle, now comes the time to rebuild." _And reforge the world_..._yes_..._a brighter one, a __purer__ on_e...

"Eh, I'd leave that to Garrett, he knows how to...make things better." Isabela looked away, eyes on the floor, posture dejected. "...he'll clean up the mess."

Anders hesitated, not sure what to say to words spoken so out of character by the woman. _Old Anders would have known what to say_... In the end, he managed a small smile. "He won't manage it alone though."

"No." Isabela nodded, sighing as she shot the full hospital another glance. "Not alone..."

With that, she moved away, towards Anders' office, her steps slow and weary.

Looking at her, Anders found his smile fading.

_No, not alone, I need more allie_s...

8

8

8

"Charles Reinhart."

"Garrett Hawke."

"Please, take a seat."

"Don't mind if I do."

Charles, being so small and old, looked ready to be swallowed by the chair he sat down in, but the head balancing on his thin and wrinkly neck still held a sharp mind. His grey eyes, though still tired from all that had happened, were already analysing Garrett for what the man might want, wary, yet friendly.

Garrett's office hadn't changed much since the Qunari attack, only a few drapes of crimson red had been hung where there was space, his equally red cloak hanging off the back of his own chair, conspicuous for his visitor to see.

Smiling, Garrett gestured at the plate and bottle before them. "Wine? Cheese?"

"Yes, please, with all the repairs going on, I've had precious little time to eat." _Tell me about i_t... Charles reached for the wine first, pouring himself a glass, then, he took the little knife on the plate and cut himself a surprisingly large slice of cheese while smirking at the sight of it. "Qunari, eh...?" Garrett could only shrug to the question, making the other man chuckle. "Your subtlety needs work, Hawke, and my memory has not yet left me."

Garrett met Charles' gaze...and then they shared a little chuckle. It quickly faded from Garrett's lips though, a growing impatience forcing him to speak. "Charles...where do I have you?"

Charles' chuckle instantly died, his face growing serious, measuring Garrett with his gaze as Garrett did the same to the man who could make or break Garrett's campaign before it had even started. Finally, the man spoke. "You saved my wife and daughter, what's most precious to me, I owe you my life and all the favours in the world." Garrett struggled not to sigh in relief even as the man continued. "_However_, don't think I'll risk them once more in taking on Meredith. I won't do that, not even for you."

"Of course, I can respect that." Still relieved, Garrett smiled. "And thank you." He leant back in his seat, sighing. "And who speaks of taking on Meredith? I will do no such thing..." Charles arched an eyebrow, making Garrett chuckle. "...at least not with a blade in hand, I'm not a warrior at heart, you know."

"I'd disagree with that, but..." Charles chuckled, then eyed Garrett with curiosity. "...you have a plan?"

"Not anything solid yet, but it's something I'm working on." Garrett replied with a nod, then spread his hands wide with a sigh. "But let's face it, Meredith's announcement and following through of said announcement is a disaster, the city will fall apart without an administration and with the rules she's imposing."

Charles nodded, but only slightly. "And with you as Viscount, laws would be passed that take even more wealth from the nobility..."

"Oh come on!" Garrett sat up straight, eyes flashing. "Meredith is _stealing_ from the treasury, from you, and you want to speak of taxes!?" He shook his head. "Any tax I would make would be discussed and _every_ coin reinvested into the city, into making it better for_ us all_...instead you now have the city slowly falling apart while money is being funnelled into making a lot of fancy runes for the templars to carry around!"

Charles grimaced, but nodded. "Indeed...I can't really argue otherwise." A shrug, and the man smiled. "I'll throw in my support for you as Viscount, however, that support is pointless as long as Meredith blocks any election and all other administration of the city."

_One down_. Garrett grinned. "Good, excellent."

"But what's your plan?"

"I have not figured out the specifics, but Meredith operates out of conviction, she _believes_ we're corrupted...dangerous." Garrett ignored Charles' arched eyebrow, knowing fully well the man knew of his mage-connections. How could he not? "If we can prove otherwise, turn this city around even _without_ the administration the viscount relies on, _despite_ the obstacles she puts in our way...then she _has_ to relent, because we've just proven ourselves _more_ than worthy to lead the city."

"Hopefully she'll see it that way..." Charles grimaced, but then shrugged. "Not that I see any other way, we can't really force Meredith away, not with that army of hers at her disposal. I suppose we could write to the Divine, but she has a tendency to favour people working for the faith..."

"Of course she does." Garrett grunted. "And with the Grand Cleric dead and no clear successor ready to step forth..."_ Thank the Maker for that, if Petrice had survived the attack_..._that could have turned nasty_. "...the local Chantry has none we could use to curb Meredith's ambitions."

"So we bring the city to order, pick up the trash and such?" Charles asked, looking amused. "Essentially?"

"Well, there's more than that, and we can't do it alone..." Garrett hesitated. "...you're with me, but what about the others at court?"

Charles shifted in his chair, grimacing. "They're...with you, in a manner of speaking." Garrett arched an eyebrow. "I don't think they'll betray you, they all owe you their lives, many their property as well...but you must understand that many of them are frightened by _your_ ambitions...and the facets surrounding you."

"Oh?" Garrett leant forward, pouring himself a cup of wine. "Let's hear it." He took a sip, knowing he would not enjoy Charles' next words.

"Meredith warns about mages corrupting us...and you're mage-friendly, you blatantly used _magic_ to reach us."

"Oh, come now." Garrett scoffed, taking another sip from his glass as he leant back as casually as he could. "Nearly every noble family in town has used an apostate at some point. I hear from one of those who rescued you that the going rate for an apostate healer among the nobility is two sovereigns per treatment."

"I pay three, just to be sure." Charles chuckled, then his face turned serious once more. "But that's besides the point, these are apostate _healers_...it's different than shattering doors like a stick and ripping foes apart with whatever they can summon...hell, many don't even think of these healers as mages, preferring to simply call them _healers_, like apothecaries."

"Wilful ignorance, ask them to request one of their 'healers' to cast some other spell at a piece of furniture, then they'll see..."

Charles nodded. "Perhaps, but still...being so clearly pro-magic, mixed with the dangers of blood-magic, means one might question your motives for dealing with Meredith."

"We'll have to deal with that then." Garrett smiled. _There is nothing, nothing, emptiness_... Charles flinched at the sudden glow of white in Garrett's eyes. "Maybe a display of templar powers would be a first step."

"It..._would_, yes...though maybe not enough." Charles shook his head. "You're full of surprises." Another shake of his head, and he grimaced. "Besides that, though...you're an elf-lover." Garrett winced. "No need to deny it, we all saw it."

"I'm not _about_ to deny loving an elf." Garrett growled back, angry at the mere thought of doing so.

Charles raised his hands in surrender, a court smile on his lips. "Can't claim I understand it, and my wife is quite upset about it, but it's of course your choice." _Choice_? _There was no choice about it_. He lowered his arms. "That said, a Viscount with an elf lover or – perish the thought – _wife_, would look _very_ bad...and likely not be accepted."

"I'm _not_ leaving her." Garrett growled back, glaring at the other noble.

"Well...at least she seems good at making friends." Charles replied diplomatically, shrugging. "Heard some speak well of her since that last party."

Garrett sighed. "What else?"

"Well there's the obvious problem of going against the templars. Representatives of the Chantry and therefore the Maker. Then there's the fear of all those swords the templars happen to carry around and displeasing the ones carrying them...oh and there's of course the general dislike of doing a lot of work for the city when it might not benefit yourself...you've been at the council sessions, after all."

"I recall _you_ being one of those not wanting to do such things." Garrett smirked.

Charles smiled back, voice soft. "Being nearly killed can change a man, Hawke...and I have a debt to pay."

"Well, between Meredith still taking taxes and us needing money to fund what's needed, there'll be a _lot_ of paying soon..." Garrett watched Charles grimace, but not shy away. "...can we do this? Summon the other nobles and aid the city in recovering, together?"

"We...can." Charles nodded. "Together, we're owed enough favours to gather them all and demand some services rendered." He hesitated. "However, if they don't see some results quickly, their eagerness to help will soon fade."

"Oh I'll give them results." Garrett growled, gaze distant as he clenched his fists, eager to begin retaking his city. "Together, we'll be unstoppable."

_And then, I'll be Viscount_.

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for being so strong._


	69. Chapter 69

"Ahh...love this ale, isn't it good? They imported it from Nevarra, I think. Kind of expensive for this place, but when a certain benefactor expressed an interest...well, procurements are made." Varric chuckled, though found the sound somewhat strained.

The Hanged Man had been spared the great fire following the Qunari attack, only some of the roof having been singed, yet it still _seemed_ damaged by it. It was as full of people as it usually was, but there was less traffic, less people left, less people entered. Those who stayed sat in their seat for hours, dully staring into their glasses, their orders for more to drink, to forget their sorrows, being muttered in the silence rather than shouted through cheers and the buzz of a happy crowd.

It stank of depression.

Varric didn't much like that.

Nor did he like how his company was about as cheerful as a pair of morticians at work.

Opposite and to his left Aveline sat, still in her armour. Normally, Varric would have ascribed that to her usual workaholic habits, but this time it truly looked like she'd simply forgotten she was wearing it. Her auburn her was frizzy enough to make Varric wonder if some apostate had zapped her with a lightning-bolt and the dirt on her face couldn't quite conceal how pale she looked, or the dark blotches under her eyes. Her eyes, usually so sharp and ready, now had a dull look about them, their gaze fixed on her dented gauntlet on the table as she constantly flexed the bare and bruised hand holding a near-empty glass.

Opposite and to his right, Isabela looked nearly as bad. It wasn't anything as overt as with Aveline, her hair was in order, her skin clean...yet under the pleasant façade, the injuries were easily spotted. There were the eyes as dull as Aveline's, equal parts exhaustion and wounded. There was the blotch of blood staining the side of her tunic, no doubt from her work with Anders, that she didn't seem to register. There was the way she now and again twitched, eyes looking up and around, sometimes in fear, sometimes in guilt. _Fear of Castillon, I'm sure, and guilt of all you've done_.

_Good_.

Varric caught himself glaring at the woman and suppressed it, knowing it would do no good to distress Aveline even more, she had been the one insisting Isabela would come, after all. _Can't believe you've gotten friendly with her now_. _Why_? Varric couldn't forgive Isabela, everything had been her fault, and worse yet, she'd betrayed her friends several times while trying to escape responsibility...and even nearly _killed_ him in her selfish need to save her own skin.

Those were hard things to forgive, and Varric had been genuinely hurt by the treachery, _especially_ when he above all others had placed so much trust in her and tried to help her so much...

Aveline had muttered something about 'repenting' and 'truly punished' on the issue, but Varric had a hard time forgiving for such small things. Aveline might have warmed up to Isabela since the pirate's surrender to judgement, but Varric himself wasn't impressed. _When will she turn next_? _Can't trust her_.

Still, Varric wouldn't have minded if the pirate had been more cheerful, if nothing else to make Aveline a little more attentive and receptive to cheer, or maybe even inspired _some_ happiness among the rest of the patrons of the tavern. Not that she would have been likely to be successful, Varric had tried himself, but with no luck. People were just too tired and worried for the present and future to bring themselves to be amused by his anecdotes and tales.

Sighing, rubbing his temples, the dwarf leant back, relenting. "Okay, speak up, what's the problem? Lay it on me."

"What _isn't_ a problem?" Aveline grunted, not looking up from staring at her gauntlet as she took a sip from her glass. "You've taken a look outside, I trust?"

"Of course, I've talked to people, seen them, I know that-"

"You don't know, not like I..." Aveline sighed, bare hand moving up to brush through her hair, her eyes still on the dented gauntlet on the table. "...with all due respect, Varric, you don't know half of it."

Taking a deep breath, Varric leant forward, forcing a gentle smile as he clasped one hand over the other on the table. "Then tell me, I'm here to listen, after all." Aveline finally looked up at that, giving him a surprised look that made him offer a smirk. "I need more stories to tell, after all."

"Nothing fun about this one, I'm afraid." Aveline grunted in annoyance, though without the usual heat she had when she felt Varric was being disrespectful. "_Half_ of Lowtown has been burnt to the ground, a quarter more is damaged enough to be considered uninhabitable...some people fight over what's left, some now sleep on the streets, others run into Darktown where they'll either become prey to criminals or become criminals themselves."

"The clinic is full of former Lowtowners." Isabela muttered with a tired nod of agreement. "The gangs there like to mug the families coming down for everything they got, then stab one of the parents as a way of keeping them frightened."

Ignoring the pirate, Varric offered Aveline a sympathetic grimace. "That can't be easy to control."

"Control? We're just trying to keep the _rest_ from burning down at this point." Aveline sighed, shaking her head. "Most of the warehouses of the city burnt down in the fire, warehouses containing most of the _food_...and though the last harvest is coming in from the countryside, the city still relies on _some_ trade for food, and merchants are currently wary of approaching the city, what with the rampant crime, the lack of accommodations and templars shaking them down the moment they cross the gate." The guard-captain's other – still in its gauntlet – hand clenched into a fist at her own words."So now we have riots, riots containing a lot of people, people desperate for _food_."

Varric frowned. "Don't most cities have stored supplies in case of a siege or a crisis like this...?"

Isabela snorted, though it was a tired sound. "So people keep saying in the clinic, they're getting pretty angry with the nobles about it..."

"Not their fault, though one could wish they'd spend less time rebuilding their palaces and more doing something useful." Aveline grimaced. "As for those stores...they are in the Viscount's Keep and...well as Meredith put it, 'the templars must keep up their strength in this time of crisis'."

Varric caught himself whistling. "Wow...charity of the Chantry is overrated, I guess?"

"_What_ Chantry?" Aveline grimaced. "The old Grand Cleric died in her bed, the one about to be chosen died with a Qunari arrow in her chest, the rest are a bickering pack of hens all recoiling in fright whenever Meredith so much as _looks_ at them."

"At least she's getting _results_..." Isabela grunted and shrugged. "...well, the ones that matter to her. Anders is bloody _livid_ about all the apostates her templars have caught while fine-combing the city." A tired smile. "Weird day when he's caught wishing for the Divine to intervene..."

"Weird indeed." Aveline agreed, slumping in her chair as she took another sip from her glass. "Not that I wish it too by now...what's she waiting for?"

"The Divine's hold on the Templars is a fragile thing, especially here in the Free Marches with all the smuggling...and King Behlen back in Orzammar hasn't helped with his liberal trading with Lyrium." Varric shrugged. "Plus, there _are_ many apostates here, maybe the Divine sees Meredith's actions as just in that light?"

"Maker, preserve us..." Isabela groaned, hands holding her head, staring down at the table. "...it's going to get worse, isn't it?"

_No thanks to you_. Isabela seemed to _hear_ his thought, shooting Varric a guilty look as she shirked away. Ignoring her though, she wasn't worth the words, Varric turned to Aveline. "What about the nobility? Or Garrett?"

Aveline shrugged, a dejected look on her face. "The _nobles_...?" A shake of her head. "Money's tight, the problems are piling up and the Templars are essentially blocking all attempts at fixing things by crippling the administration...what _can_ they do?"

"Heyyyy!"

Merrill appeared so suddenly and with such a grin, that her slamming her palms onto the table made the entire tavern jump in surprise, unprepared for the wave of positivity radiating from the elf.

"I'm getting _married_!"

The table exploded into a cheer. A chuckle, then some cheering, spreading across the tavern as the customers enjoyed the way Merrill suddenly turned red at the realisation at how loud she'd been.

Even as he cheered, Varric mentally shook his head.

_So soon_? _After a few months_? _And I still have a bad feeling about those two_...

Still, watching the elf's infectious smile was...liberating.

_Maybe I'm just imagining things_.

8

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Garrett felt tired.

He was still recovering from his wounds, Anders' healing had alleviated most of it, but he still felt drawn out and thin, like too little butter on too much bread. Anders had suggested he'd rest to let his body catch up with its natural healing, but who had time for such things? Instead, Garrett took a sip of wine to ease the pain as he straightened, then handed the glass to a bowing Fenn. "Are they ready?"

"They are, Serah, they are waiting for you." The elf muttered, head still bowed as he took a step back. "Should I announce you, Serah?"

Garrett considered it, then shook his head. "No, I'll do it myself." He glanced to the left, the mirror in the hallway he stood in large enough to catch his profile. _White shirt spotless and light, black trousers and boots in military style, red cloak simple yet elegant and impossible to miss_. _Maybe a bit too much of a Ferelden look_? He looked to his eyes, a hard and intelligent brown gaze looked back at him, showing no hint of the exhaustion beneath. _But a Viscount, yes_. "Open the door."

Ignoring Fenn and Orana as the two elves silently opened the door, Garrett marched out, gaze fixed ahead, heart hammering in a steady rhythm as he felt the moment approach.

As the door silently closed behind him, Garrett found himself in the main hall of his estate, at the top of the stairs leading down to the main floor. Further away, the doorway leading outside was blocked by a grim-looking Bastile in full armour. Garrett was risking a lot by calling the current meeting and none would leave until he'd had his say.

Beneath him, the heads of the houses of the nobility of Kirkwall stood assembled, together numerous enough to form a sea of people in what Garrett usually thought a large floor. _When I'm Viscount, I'll hold all meetings in the Keep, they have enough space there_. Reaching the top of the stairs leading down, Garrett leant down on the balustrade with his hands, taking a deep breath even as he saw a few of the people noticing him, the rest busy gossiping about the strange meeting, faces painted with concern. "My friends."

Garrett's voice, from the platform atop the stairs, carried easily across the room, turning the muttering talks into whispers as dozens upon dozens of faces turned to look up at him. An image of Carver in the throne room smirking down at him flashed before Garrett's eyes, and he smiled down at the crowd. _This is more like it_. He let the moment linger, let them watch, let them _wait_.

"Welcome."

Across the room, people exchanged looks and whispered to one another, unsure what to do. One though, Charles Reinhart, bowed his head, playing along. "Serah Hawke, it's always a pleasure to be invited to your home. What, may I ask, is the occasion?"

"To discuss the matters of this city." As expected, Garrett's reply triggered a wave of worried glances and whispers, yet he ignored them as he swiftly continued. "We might not have a Viscount, or a noble council, but this _is_ still our city, is it not?"

"Doesn't feel like it!" Someone snorted, triggering a wave of chuckles.

Smiling to the words, Garrett turned and took a step down the stairs, letting his cloak rustle behind for all to see and remember the reason for it. "Indeed, it doesn't, friend." He shook his head, smile faltering. "Not by far."

In the room, everyone followed his every movement, seemingly dreading his next words.

"So what are we going to do about it?"

"Champion, with all due respect..." A young man started, then hesitated, seemingly expecting Garrett to interrupt, but the man simple waved at him to go on, making him clear his throat and look around himself for support. "...I think I speak for all of us when I say that confrontation with Meredith would be...unwise."

"It would." Garrett nodded, watching many others do the same as he took another step down the stairs. "_If_ by confrontation you mean us drawing our blades and hurling ourselves at her and her templars." He smiled as many looked at him, in shock at the idea of it, or perhaps at the idea of him wanting something else. "But there are _other_ ways of handling this, of course."

Silence.

Then Charles Reinhart cleared his throat, playing his part without hesitation. "And what would these ways entail, Serah Hawke?"

Garrett stopped his descent, offering Charles a warm smile. "We undermine her _arguments_, we make her see reason." He turned his gaze to the others, watching them for weakness or hesitation. "She has proclaimed us all _unfit_ to rule, dangerous and potentially corrupt! By that reasoning, and that alone, she keeps us from governing this city." _And me from the throne_. "I suggest we prove ourselves _more_ than fit to rule, show her and everyone else how wrong she truly is." He smiled. "We pressure her by our actions and words, _not_ by might and swords, to relinquish her illegal – and believe me, it _is_ illegal – hold on the city."

Surprisingly, the first to reply to his idea was Guillaume De Launcet, the handsome noble all dazzling smiles. "That sounds like a _capital_ idea!" The man looked about himself, shaking his head at the doubtful looks he was receiving. "Come now, brothers and sisters, listen to our saviour and Champion here. This templar witch has taken away everything we nobles do, she's letting our once beautiful city fall into disrepair and I don't know about you...but I'm heartily sick of her templars marching into houses and across streets, invading everyone's privacy and laying their hands on us like we're _criminals_." The man shook his head. "It's disrespectful."

Nodding his head at the unexpected support, Garrett took up the word. "Indeed it is, brother." _Eugh, I'll call him that for political reasons, but I hope it doesn't give him ideas about Leandra_..._judging by the look on his face, he is though_..._damn_. "Everyone is a potential criminal according to her, it doesn't matter if they deal with mages or not, or _how_..." He noticed some exchanging of looks at that, doubtful glances cast at him. "...to her, it doesn't matter, we're _all_ guilty of something, even if she has to make a real stretch to find it." The doubtful looks turned nervous, the exchanged looks worried._ Indeed, be afraid_...

"So...you want us to try and do something about this?" A woman swallowed, shaking her head. "I...even _if_ your plan works...she might...I don't want her to come for me or my children."

A mutter of agreement crossed the hall, but Garrett silenced it with a wave and a curt tone. "Let me put it this way, my friends. Either we do nothing, and watch as our city descends into chaos..." He noticed a few grimaces, and spelled it out. "We'll watch the trash grow in heaps in the streets, watch food-riots grow and grow...we'll watch people _leave_ the city, we'll watch our markets become empty...we'll watch _all we have_ slowly be ground to dust." A few shuffled back and forth at that, making Garrett nod, knowing all had already felt the sting of lost profits as the city crumpled around them. "Or we do _something_."

"And that is...?" A man, small even for a dwarf, warily asked, though with something akin to hope in his eyes.

Garrett straightened to his full height, chest out, eyes clear. "Make me your Viscount."

A murmur of fright passed through the crowd.

Someone shouted a protest with no real words in it.

Another was more coherent. "Meredith would have our balls for that!"

"I said make me _your_ Viscount!" Garrett barked back, making everyone stop and look at him in confusion. "Meredith has, effectively, blocked all ways of electing a Viscount of the city, but we nobles can still, by consent, choose to have one of us lead the rest, no? Give me the authority to lead you all, to use your resources and abilities, and I'll bring this city around and make Meredith seem the fool."

Silence.

Stunned silence.

Then Guillaume spoke, chuckling. "It's semantics...but yes, I suppose Meredith couldn't stop that." Noting Garrett's eyes, the man shrugged. "I suspect this would cost us quite a bit, no? As I recall, Meredith is still taxing us...even raised them last month."

"Yes, it'll be expensive, _especially_ at first...but this is the chance to revive the city, a _good_ one...the option is a slow death." Garrett offered a grim smile. "I'd rather take the chance, were I you."

Slowly, many gazes were drawn to Charles...who smiled at Garrett, bowing his head. "Sometimes, expenditures must be made, I am with you, Champion."

A buzz of excitement shot through the crowd at the unexpected words from the man known as the greediest man in Kirkwall.

Yet, a man, hiding behind a woman, spoke up in protest. "I...c-can we do this though? All respect, Hawke, b-but you are clearly a friend of mages!"

A hushed silence fell, everyone looking at Garrett to see his reaction.

_Easy now_... Garrett smiled, sitting down in the middle of the stairs, making him look as open and understanding as possible." As are most of you. When the apostates you hire heal your son or daughter, or cure the sickness of your favourite servant...you're their best friend." Someone coughed, most looked away from Garrett's soft gaze. "I have merely made my friendliness more permanent." A chuckle. "Remember, magic saved you, _all_ of you. From the spells shattering the door to the throne room to the runes inscribed into my armour and sword, without it, _none_ of you would be here today." Cocking his head to the side, Garrett continued. "That said, magic _is_ dangerous, and it _is_ the territory of the chantry and Circle, I respect that...as long as they respect the mages in turn." A shake of his head. "I cannot say that is the case right now."

"So what _is_ your stance on magic then, if we're to have you lead us against Meredith?" Guillaume asked, arms held wide. "We'd all like to know, I'm sure."

"My stance is that there _is_ _no_ stance." Garrett replied, a little irritated with the man, but knowing an answer was required. "This is _not_ a struggle between the templars and the mages, no matter how much Meredith would like it to be so or convince others it is. This is a struggle between the religious and the secular, about who has the right to rule this city, and I will _not_ allow some little squabble in the circle to colour such a debate."

The answer elicited applaud, making Garrett smile. _Yes, nearly there_..._come_ _on_...

Another person, a woman with a face drawn in disapproval, narrowed her eyes at Garrett though. "And what of your elf..._tendencies_?" Garrett held back a grimace. "We all remember how hundreds of them joined the Qunari, how they _shot_ at us...meanwhile you are clearly _sleeping with one of them_."

Garrett bore his gaze into the woman, who trembled, yet stood firm, raising her chin defiantly as other nobles moved away from her even as they gazed at Garrett for a reply.

"One who was among those _saving_ _you_, yes." Garrett finally replied. "Are the elf servants that I know await you in your estate the same as those who once shot at you? No? Then I guess my elf isn't some noble-murdering monster either..."

A few people chuckled at the reply, but a man with a pale look shook his head. "Yet she is an elf, and a _mage_, and sharing your bed, no? Meredith warned us against that very thing..."

A murmur of fear crossed the hall.

"I wouldn't worry about that." _Nothing, emptiness, a void_... As one, the crowd gasped and took a step back at the white light suddenly emanating from Garrett's eyes, like twin fires looking at them...only to instantly falter as Garrett's lips split into a smile. "If Meredith's argument is that templars are untouchable by such powers...then who better to lead you?"

At the side, Charles chuckled at the look on the peoples faces.

"Still..." A dwarf, looking unimpressed, hitched his belt over his bulging gut. "...she's still an _elf_. The matter of succession is tricky then." Many nodded, the idea of such succession clearly abhorrent.

_Time to argue for elven rights_? Garrett shook his head, he wasn't about to risk it. "Forgive me, but I believe this was an election to become _your_ Viscount, _not_ the city's? Secondly, there _is no succession_, not here in Kirkwall, at least. Yes, many a son and daughter _has_ become Viscount after their parent has died, but they have all been _elected_." Garrett smiled and shrugged, forcing himself to ignore how angry such talk about Merrill would have made him, had he not been prepared for it. "It's a non-issue."

Silence.

Then, Charles slowly walked up the stairs, coming to stand to Garrett's right side, his voice clear as he offered his hand. "I'm with you, Viscount Hawke."

Smiling up at the old man, Garrett took the offered hand and pulled himself to his feet, clasping the man's shoulder before looking across the crowd of nobles. "And what of the rest of you? Are we going to do nothing...or will you let me lead you to a new Kirkwall?"

People only muttered among one another though, unsure, watching Garrett warily, making his smile falter. _Shit_.

But then, Guillaume marched up the stairs as well, smiling widely as he took his place on Garrett's left. "I'm with you, Viscount Hawke, for a brighter tomorrow!"

Garrett, chuckling under his breath, leant closer and put an arm over the man's shoulders, voice low. "Laying it on a little thick, are we?"

"It's how I do things, brother." Guillaume whispered back, then raised his voice at the crowd. "All for Hawke as Viscount, say 'yes'." 

"Yes."

"Yes!"

"Maker forgive me...yes."

The agreements were few, even with two of the prominent nobles at Garrett's side, making his smile melt, tone growing cold. "Remember the alternative, people, and if not me...then _who_?"

Across the floor, dozens of people exchanged looks, dejected, worried, afraid, hesitant.

Then another noble spoke up. "Yes."

"Y-yes."

"Aye."

"Guess there's little choice, yes."

"Yes, Champion, we're with you."

Garrett's smile returned, strained, but there. _So, nearly viscount, and with a reluctant support...I can work with that_.

"Thank you, friends, for your support."

Next to him, Guillaume leant close. "So, about your mother..."

Still smiling as best he could, Garrett growled back. "Go back to your _wife_, Launcet."

_Now, to use this power_...

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson, for egging me._


	70. Chapter 70

"Forgive me, mother, for I have sinned."

First Enchanter Orsino was a finely-chiseled elf with a lanky stature that made him look tall and regal for one of his kind, not to mention handsome, despite his age. The amused smirk on his lips looked good on him, though so did most looks, since he was a man who knew how to carry himself well.

None of that made Anders particularly care for him, as if him being a puppet of the Chantry wasn't enough of a reason to dislike him.

"This is not a game. Do you realise how much I risk, meeting you here?" Anders shook his head, sitting down heavily in the chair where a sister of the Chantry should be seated at the very moment, surrounded by a spartan selection of paintings depicting the struggles of Andraste. "If your templar guards waiting outside took but a peek inside, they'd kill me on the spot."

"Forgive me." Orsino ducked his head, smirk fading, revealing a less confident look. "I'm not used to this...cloak and dagger thing, it makes me nervous."_ As it did me, once, but our cause is too great to be held back by such trivial problems_. Before him, Orsino was moving into the room, looking left and right with a curious look on his face. "Where's the sister I was supposed to meet anyway? And how did _you_ get in here?"

Anders smiled coldly at that. "We have more supporters and sympathisers than the templars like to think, First Enchanter, just because someone in the open looks happy about her brother being sent to the Circle, doesn't mean she is..." The smile turned into a grin. "As for getting in here...I've had a guided tour before." _Thank you, Garrett, these hidden tunnels are making my work so much easier_...

"Good." Orsino managed a smile, though it turned into something closer to a cringe as he watched Anders' scarred and grinning face. _Get used to it, you'll see me many more times, First Enchanter_. Wiping his palms on his robe, the man stepped closer and sat down...after having pulled the chair two feet further back._ Scary, am I_? Anders smirked at the First Enchanter. _Good_. "It's an honour to meet you, the Circle might be closely watched by the templars, but whispers about you are all around anyway, many of our youngest idolise you."

"I'd like to think they idolise the _struggle_ I represent." Anders grunted back, shrugging. "Of _justice_ and equality, of _freedom_...of what we _deserve_."

Orsino arched an eyebrow, looking unimpressed and even a little insulted. "I've already read your pamphlet, and I'm _here_, aren't I? No need to repeat your slogans."

"_Slogans_?" Anders repeated, narrowing his eyes. "I mean every word, Orsino, every _fibre_ of my being is _devoted_ to this cause." _Beyond mortal drive and keen, beyond existence_. Before him, Orsino looked uncomfortable. "The cause that is freedom for you and every mage in Thedas, _that_ is my calling."

Silence.

Orsino hesitating.

Then, surprisingly, smiling. "Well...good, that's just what I want, what I _need_." It was a smile that was all too clever for its own good though, one Anders had seen on many man in Darktown, the smile of someone planning to exploit the 'idealistic mage'._ Ideals doesn't make me a fool though, so yes, let's hear how you plan to use me_... "For we, all of us, dearly need your help." Orsino shifted where he sat. "It's...hard to describe; things weren't always so bad, but since Meredith became Knight-Commander..."

_Ah, the 'it's not so bad for me so I don't care about the misery for others until it affects me'_. "She turned your prison into less of a gilded cage and more of the cell it truly is?"

Orsino winced, but didn't respond to the baiting. "Well, _yes_...harsher rules come and go, every Circle mage knows that, but Meredith has been particularly hard. Freedoms many took for granted were suddenly in question, templar numbers growing exponentially, even their _attitude_ towards us changing..." The elf shook his head with a sigh. "Then add the capturing of many apostates and the way they now treat us all like them..." _Them_? Y_our own kin, First Enchanter, or is a mage outside the Circle not worth as much_!? Anders kept his face carefully blank, his insides burning, Justice roaring for punishment._ Not yet, Justice, not yet_. "...and things have turned damn near abysmal for us. We're not living in the tower any more, we're _existing_, hoping to do so without punishment, even."

"This isn't an isolated event, Orsino. As with any tyranny, the subjects suffer at the whim of whoever is in control at the moment." Anders grunted with a shrug. "There's no denying that some commanders are more lenient than others, but they're in the minority, most are bigoted bullies thinking of mages more like property or prisoners than people." Before him, Orsino was twisting in his seat, uncomfortable with such a blatant accusation. "_Yet_, however lenient they are, that doesn't change the _fact_ that their 'wards' live, die and become tranquil at the _whim_ of this all-powerful person holding your very life in the palm of their hand." Anders shook his head with a snort. "Even a King answers to his subjects more than a Templar Commander does to his mages."

"True..." Orsino was still twisting in his chair, as if criticism of the templars upset him. _He's against them, though their hold on him is strong, the propaganda of the Chantry is strong_. "...but while we could discuss philosophy and the legal rights of mages all day, I was more concerned by the here and now."

"The here and now is _because_ of our situation in general." Anders countered, then sighed. _Justice, we must calm down, we're not here to argue, focus_... "But as you wish, the here and now is all we can affect, after all." Within him, Justice growled at his words. _And in so, topple everything and make the future what it ought to be, yes, I know_... "Our letters suggested you'd wish something from me...?"

Anders already knew the answer, yet he still arched his eyebrows as Orsino leant closer. "Yes, I need your help. All mages in _Kirkwall_ need your help...I need my Circle to escape_, all of them_." Suddenly nervously licking his lips, Orsino threw a glance back, as if expecting the templars outside to suddenly burst in. "Meredith...sh...she's just too much."

"A symptom of a disease." Anders nodded, inwardly pleased. "I can help you, yes, but why stop with just the symptom...? Together, we could light a fire great enough to make _all_ mages heed the call for freedom." _There, I asked, Justice, but he won't want that_. The spirit rolled around in Anders' gut, still unable to comprehend such things.

As expected, Orsino pulled back, shaking his head. "I...Anders, I'm sorry, but as First Enchanter, my first and only responsibility is the mages in my Circle. I must look to _their_ safety." A hesitant smile on nervous lips. "The...Circle isn't _so_ bad, you know? But Meredith...we _must_ escape."

"Very well." _One step at a time, Justice, plus...if Orsino thinks __he's__ the one using __us__, he'll be in for a shock_. Within him, Justice smiled, pleased, savouring the things to come. "I'll have to agree to disagree with you there." For now. "So you're proposing an alliance to help you save your Circle from the oppression of the templars and Meredith?"

Orsino swallowed, but to his credit, didn't look away, holding Anders' gaze. "Yes."

"That is exactly my goal, so your offer is interesting...but while I have a network of sympathisers and agents, a system for getting people out, I even have contacts abroad...what exactly would you offer with this alliance?" Anders couldn't help but smirk, he knew fully well what Orsino could offer._ I've lived in a Circle myself, I know how things work, what you have, and what parts I __need_...

Orsino raised his chin, giving Anders a haughty look for asking such a question...but the look faltered under the scarred mage's gaze. "I...have an entire tower full of the brightest Circle mages you'd ever know, half of whom will do anything the First Enchanter tells them to without question. The senior leadership of the Circle in particular is loyal to me." _All of which won't be able to do much from within the tower_..._at least not right now_. _Get to the meat of your offer_. "I also have access to our storage, an abundance of things you have little or nothing off. Poultices, herbs, spell books..." _Yes, yes, get to the important bit_... Anders caught himself leaning forward. "...plus our storage of lyrium, second only to the templars in this city."

_Lyrium_..._with all its applications_...

Anders, grinning wide, offered his hand. "Orsino, I think we have a deal..."

8

8

8

The sound of hammers beating a steady rhythm was echoing through the streets, the smell of sawdust nearly overpowering.

It was _amazing_.

Looking around herself, Isabela felt small and guilty. Everywhere men and women were smiling and working, buildings rising around them due to their toil. _They wouldn't have to rebuild without me_...

Yet they were, and _fast_, the labour of thousands concentrated into the relatively small area of the Kirkwall docks.

Next to her, Garrett in his leather armour sounded pleased with himself, almost smug. "It's not of stone, as I'd liked, but it'll have to do, the city needs to recover, and fast."

"Well...you're doing it..." Isabela muttered back, watching with a grimace as many people spotting the noble and his guards stopped what they were doing to bow, some even kneeling to the 'Viscount'. Garrett might have continued to claim he was merely the viscount of the nobles, their representative, but Isabela saw him lapping it up as every person, be they high or low, referred to him by the title. _Guess he deserves it though_..._we all get what we deserve, in the end_.

_That sucks, I like life_.

Garrett, seemingly not noticing Isabela's empty words, went on. "We're rebuilding the docks first...the work is bleeding money. Most nobles aren't grumbling about this part though, it's already getting a few traders, after all...mostly due to us offering to buy food at ridiculous prices, but still, as merchants, my nobles understand the idea of making business come back, even at an initial cost." A grumble. "Of course, with Meredith raising taxes to pay for her ludicrous purchases of precious metals to make more of those bloody rune-stones there's already complaining about anything not directly related to them. Can't blame them, even, I know my costs are up by about a hundred percent."

Isabela winced, it was indeed scary, mostly for Merrill's sake, to see so many templars marching across the streets, most now carrying a baton of black mahogany covered in runes, supposedly able to sniff out magic better than any templar. The random searches were the worst, and considering how Isabela herself had been cornered for those five times already, abusing their newly-gained power wasn't beyond the templars, _especially_ for libidinous men encouraged to a life of celibacy that spotted the Rivaini._ Cavity search my arse_..._literally_.

"Still, it's progress, no? And with so many people hired to rebuild the docks, they get some money to spend on food we sell, recovering some of our losses...every little bit helps." Garrett sighed. "Still, the changes aren't so visible anywhere else but in the docks...the nobles need something uniting them, something more hands-on than letting me cart off their savings..."

"Yeah, I can see how they won't like that in the long run..." Isabela grimaced. She hated tax in general, and Garrett's taxing wasn't even a real one. _Though he does it to those filthy rich ones_..._eh, always the silver lining, eh, Isabela_? "What are you going to do?"_ Maker, I sound tired_...

"I'm hoping for some team-building exercises." Garrett chuckled. "Aveline and her guard are basically holding back a storm here, barely keeping order in the streets as it is. But with all those paranoid people in Hightown after the Qunari attack, the amount of noble-hired soldiers is at an all-time high...and I've received a certain letter that's opened quite a window of opportunity..." Glancing at him, Isabela found the man was smirking, plans moving within his skull, ever turning and churning. _You scare me sometimes_. "Meredith will see us united, the _world_ will see us united."

"Does this uniting still include Merrill?" Isabela felt a little energized at the question, a jolt of anger. "I can't help but notice that despite this proposal and such, she's spending an awful lot of time around me, Aveline and Varric...don't have time for her any more or something? Or would it just be bad to be seen with her?"

Garrett grimaced, the words striking something under the Champion's ambition. "I've...been somewhat busy, yes, I...I'll make it up to her, after this thing with Meredith is done with." He shot Isabela an annoyed look. "And don't think I fear being seen with her, I've never apologised for our relationship to the other nobles, and I'm not about to start now." He cocked his head to the side with a smirk. "Not like they have much choice...who else would lead them? De Launcet? One of the younger ones, ready to wet themselves whenever Meredith looks at them?"

"And _if_ they had had a choice and Merrill was held against you...?" Isabela couldn't help but ask.

Garrett snorted and looked away. "Pointless question, that's not the case." _Not the answer I wanted, Hawke_... Isabela clenched her fist, then unclenched it. _Oh what's the point_? _What right do I have to dictate what others do after my own screw-ups_? "And if it were, I would of course chose Merrill." _Nice of you to add that, needed to think about it_? "Though I didn't bring you here to talk about my love-life."

Isabela shrugged, tired, disinterested. "And that is?"

"I'm curious about how you're doing, I haven't seen a lot of you-"

"That's because you've been busy being Champion Viscount Hawke, lord and saviour of Kirkwall."

"Heh..." Garrett glanced down at her, though his amusement was short-lived as he finally gave her a good look. "How _are_ you doing, anyway? Anders told me about you helping him, that's good..."

"I'm...trying." Isabela sighed. "Might as well, eh?" Shrugged. "Do some good while I still can, eh?"

"Isabela, there won't be any trial or anything, I've seen to it so that won't happen. You've taken your punishment, you still are, in a way...hell, if _Aveline's_ satisfied with it, I almost feel as if I've been to harsh."

Isabela offered a pale smile. _Aveline, you're too kind_..._Maker, I better never utter those words out loud_. "Yeah, thank you, Garrett, I know all that...it wasn't what I was referring to."

"Errr..." Garrett frowned in confusion, his memory apparently hazy on the issue.

_Can't blame you, too much to do, eh_? Shrugging, Isabela looked away. "Castillon is still out there, and he'll kill me."

"Hang on now, we've dealt with worse-"

"Maybe today, Garrett, maybe tomorrow, maybe in a year or two...he likes to keep people guessing, makes him feel powerful." Isabela swallowed, but the panic she'd felt earlier...by now it was almost gone, replaced by weariness. "I won't get any letter of warning, no assassins will come into my room at night, nothing dramatic..."

"Then what-"

"At some point, I'll bump into someone on the street...and find a shiv in my spine." Isabela shrugged. "Or I'll be drinking at the Hanged Man when half the patronage, including me, suddenly die to a poison in the drinks. Might be a random arrow in the dark, or some murderous maniac unleashed on me in the privy...heck, heard of one man simply getting a roof-tile dropped on him." She sighed, blankly staring ahead. "Nothing dramatic, nothing fancy, and when I least expect it." _I hope I die in a dignified posture, at least_... "But he will kill me."

"Or he'll outsource the job."

The new voice made Isabela look up.

_Coterie leathers_? _Why are the Coterie here_?

Then she realised that the three men, crossbows held ready, had just appeared from behind a pile of logs, weapons trained on the pirate.

_Ah_.

The world slowed to a crawl.

Garrett, standing next to her, began to move...and so did one of the crossbows at the threatening movement.

_No_. _No more should die because of what I_-!

Isabela put a hand against Garrett's chest, the leather of his armour smooth against her palm...and pushed.

Then the world stopped.

_Huh_...

Slowly, like in a dream, it began to list, like a ship caught in a high wave at sea, the distant horizon disappeared, replaced by sky.

Blinking, Isabela looked down.

She could see the horizon again, see it falling.

She could also see the crossbow-bolts.

One, lodged deep in her stomach, the fins of brightly red leather.

The second, shaft of black wood, lodged between two of her ribs in her left side.

The third, a barely visible shadow under her jaw, buried just under her shattered collar-bone.

Beyond, the horizon came to a stop in a little cloud of dust, the bright sun shining on her face from beyond her still feet.

Then a shadow fell upon her, Garrett's guards, as if wading through water, moving to block her sun, shields and swords ready.

Then Garrett himself appeared, hovering over her, screaming something at her, then raising his head, shouting at someone out of Isabela's vision.

_I'll miss the sea_.

Isabela smiled, something wet running down her cheeks as she looked at Garrett still shouting at people, angry and...was it worry she saw?

_And I'll miss you guys too_.

The man was fumbling with his jacket now, what couldn't be anything but a curse slipping from his lips, his face strangely dark, all around him...grey.

_Wish I could have stayed for the wedding_...

Then, he was glowing, a second sun, a bright light, the darkness surrounding it growing darker.

_Wonder what hell will be like_...?

The light was fading, shimmering like glass, red like life, faltering...then disappearing.

_I'm sorry_.

8

8

8

_Thanks to Abydos Jackson, for staying the course._


	71. Chapter 71

Darkness.

No, light.

"Good morning, dear."

Isabela blinked, she was wrapped in softness, the light pale as it sifted through a not quite closed curtain. Above, a gilded chandelier hung, angular glass glittering like diamonds down on her. _Maybe __they __are__ diamonds_...? She lay in something blue, soft and cool, like the sea was embracing her, welcoming her._ I didn't think I'd be met by that_...

"Good to finally see you up."

"Am...am I dead?"

"Heaven's no! What kind of question is that!?"

Looking up, Isabela winced, her neck aching like mad. _Ah, pain, okay, so alive then_..._weird_. She was surprised at the one facing her, standing just at the foot of the large bed she lay in. "L-Leandra?" The old Hawke was smiling back, though it was a concerned smile. "I'm...in your home?"

"That's right, good to see you have your wits about you. Anders said there'd be a chance you'd be delirious as an after-effect of his poultices." Leandra's smile turned more relaxed, the woman gently sitting down at the foot of the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Anders?" Isabela blinked, shaking her head as her hands moved down to the bed, pushing against it so she could sit up. "I-"

_Pain_!

"Son of a blighted whore's second incestuous cousin!"

Leandra's eyes opened wide.

Isabela, biting her bottom lip, guiltily looked back.

_Well that went well_.

"Sorry."

"It's quite alright, dearie..." Leandra smiled, though still looked somewhat rattled. "I keep forgetting that my son's friends are an...interesting lot." A deep breath, and the smile turned soft. "You pushed him out of the way, he said."

"Well..I..." Isabela shook her head, frowning. "...don't quite remember..."_ Doesn't sound like me_. The image of the Coterie crossbowmen fluttered before her vision, making her shudder, turning her voice into a soft whisper of a painful memory. "...one death was enough."

"Well, as it happens, I don't agree, I'm heartily sick of death." Leandra smiled, hand moving down to pat Isabela's ankle through the blue velvet cover. "Neither does my son agree, actually...though in the opposite direction." Leandra grimaced. "The Coterie attack upset him, dearie...not sure if it was being so close to death or him feeling insulted – certainly spoke like that was the case – by them trying to kill one of his friends..." A shake of her head. "He's so prideful nowadays."'

"Well...he's got reason to, I suppose." Isabela grunted, finally managing to pull herself up to a sitting position. Slowly, she looked down, hands lifting the cover to check the damage. _Wow, that's a lot of bandages_..._my_ _entire_ _torso_? "How did I...?"

"Luck." Leandra sighed. "Garrett had health potions on him, he always does nowadays. Even that didn't do much though, he said, so he rushed you into the sewers." Isabela blinked, making Leandra shrug. "Apparently the Cats have several bases there, plus mages..." A wince. "Maker knows I'd like him to take less risks..." Another pat on Isabela's ankle. "...though I'm glad it helped. Stabilized, you could be brought to Anders...and now you're here."

"How long...?"

"Nearly a week, now."

Shaking her head, perplexed at the sudden gap in her life, Isabela looked around...and blinked when she to her right found Merrill.

With her legs pulled up on the chair she was sitting on and wrapped in a big blanket, the elf looked like a little black-furred rabbit barely showing its head from under a wrap of white fluff. From underneath, a soft muttering was escaping in a steady rhythm, the elf speaking a slurry elven as she slept. _Awww_...! "She's been here the whole week, or close to it...I'd let her sleep, she's been up too long watching over you."

"Of course she has." Isabela smiled at the tuft of black hair barely showing above the rim of the blanket. _You're a good friend, the __best__ friend, one could have_. Shaking the annoyingly sappy thought aside, Isabela turned to look about the rest of the room, but to her disappointment, no one else was in the room. _Should have known_.

Reading her expression, Leandra spoke up. "Aveline comes and goes as well, you know, though she barely has the time, bless that girl." _Aveline_!? Isabela was surprised...and touched. "She's said she'd like to be here even more, but she's busy cleaning up after Garrett." Isabela blinked at Leandra, making the older woman shrug, a worried look on her face. "Her words, not mine."

"Cleaning up...what?"

Leandra grimaced. "Well...I told you...my son didn't like the Coterie attacking his friend, or putting him in danger like that...though considering how much he's mentioned the rest of the nobility, his motivation for doing what he has might be less about that and more about them."

"Might be?" Isabela echoed, surprised at Leandra's unsure choice of words.

"I...I don't know." Leandra winced and looked away, frowning and biting her bottom lip. "He doesn't tell me much nowadays...I...it's sometimes hard to recognise my son, he's so caught up in being everything else he must be..." A shudder passed through the woman as she took a deep breath. "Though maybe it's for the best, all the things I hear, all the risks he's taking...Maker..." She swallowed, eyes distant. "...I couldn't bear losing another child."

"Well...I can't claim to know the sides of him you know..." Isabela started, feeling awkward at the words of the older woman._ Do I look like a shoulder to cry on_...? "But I know his capabilities, he's not so easily overcome, and he doesn't take risks without having considered the odds, he's a survivor."

"Many live their entire lives without ever risking themselves...he seems incapable of that." Leandra pointed out with a sigh, but still shot Isabela a smile. "Thanks though."

"So...what's he doing?"

"Fighting the Coterie, silly." 

Isabela's eyes bulged. "Is he insane?"

Leandra winced at the words, making Isabela grimace in guilt. Yet the reply was surprising. "Apparently it's going well...between that gang the Cats, Garrett's knowledge of the criminals, his contacts among them and a lot of nobles and their soldiers, he says it's going _very_ well." Leandra shrugged. "He has those Magisters of the city with him all the time now, to pronounce judgements and do trials on the spot. Personally I find it twisting the law a bit too much for my liking, but then again, I've never cared for the Coterie..."

"I can't imagine Aveline likes it that much..."

"She's been remarkably okay with it." Leandra shook her head. "She quotes laws and says every member of the Coterie is a criminal and such...her guardsmen can't really attack areas without permission, but the laws on citizen-arrests in Kirkwall are lax, so..." B_et she likes all those criminals being taken in, and the fact that Garrett's her friend and the one now paying the entire guard might make her receptive to thinking a certain way_. Leandra shrugged, looking uncomfortable. "I just think that while my son is acting within the laws, it's not within the _spirit_ of the law...having trials and executions on the street sets a horrible precedence."

Isabela, surprised at the words coming from Garrett's own _mother_, didn't know what to say.

A shake of her head, and Leandra looked away. "Never mind me, I'm just babbling, my time discussing Kirkwall politics was so many years ago, I can hardly remember it...times have clearly changed." Looking back, the old woman feigned a smile. "Anyway, you're up, and I've already sent for Anders to have a look at you...you were quite lucky, you know? Anders says you were worse than...Garrett after the Arishok."

"Is that possible without dying? Because damn, he was..." Isabela asked, and instantly regretted herself at the way Leandra paled. _Foot, meet mouth_..._again_. "...erm...I mean...what was so bad?"

After a deep breath, Leandra managed a smile. "Anders can tell you in more details, but the arrow in your chest grazed your heart." _Ouch_. "And the one close to your neck shattered the collar-bone, a piece which nearly severed the artery bringing blood to your head...I can tell you, Anders had a hell of a time putting that bone together, so you better thank him, young lady."_ Heh, lady Isabela_... The pirate smiled nervously, idea of something sharp pressing against her heart making her chest feel tight. "As for the one in your stomach...that one nearly killed you."

"Tell me it didn't wreck my liver..." Isabela shuddered in terror, the thought of not drinking horrifying.

"What?" Leandra blinked, then chuckled at Isabela's expression. "No, no you can still drink, silly, although you really ought to cut down." Isabela rolled her eyes. _Yes, mom_. "It hit the intestines, Anders used _a lot _of poultices to deal with that..." Leandra smiled and shook her head. "I'm amazed he had that much, but you're lucky he did."

"Yeah..." Isabela smiled and yawned, suddenly dizzy. _Castillon is still out there, but_..._yeah, lucky, I'm __very__ lucky_.

"Oh dear, is the medicine taking effect again? I'll see if I can't..." Leandra's voice turned into a buzz.

"...I'm so lucky."

Sleep caught her.

8

8

8

"No! No please! _Nooo_!"

Carver rolled his eyes, arms crossed over his chest._ It's isolation, not torture, whiner_. Standing in an alcove overlooking the lower levels of the circle tower, Carver felt powerful. The responsibility of taming the less submissive apostates was a heavy one, though it didn't require much work since the templar veterans already knew how to put the apostates in their place. _Still, I'm going to take it seriously and be here for when a call is needed_..._the whiner, for instance, isn't too important, but the information he refuses to give_..._I should speak to Meredith about it_.

Below, the long hall was lined with statues of Andraste and iron gates covered in ancient runes that glowed whenever some mage nearby tried to use magic...which was proving quite useful for dishing out punishment, since magic was strictly forbidden on the current level.

Carver had heard the whispers, some mages called it the 'torture halls', some templars 'the sweatshop'. There was no torture though, nor did Carver consider doing your duty in a more hands-on approach to be a hard job. It was a duty, and a _good_ one. As such, Meredith calling it the 'hall of conversion' was as apt as any name. "Cullen, what's on your mind?"

The other templar in the alcove sighed, the man having remained silent for the last ten minutes. "There's a lot of them, huh?" Carver frowned, not sure he understood the dejected tone of the man. Cullen was a dedicated templar, that was true, and one believing in the ideals of the Circle...yet at the same time, he sometimes acted as if he pitied the mages, as if being _in_ the Circle was somehow something negative. _He thinks too much_.

"And there'll be more of them, the city is swarming with apostates, not just from the city itself, but immigrants as well, somehow thinking Kirkwall to be a safe haven for them, despite our Order." _I should know_... Carver grit his teeth, it wasn't often he thought of Bethany, despite his surroundings, but whenever he did, it was a bitter and angering thought. _You should be here, with me_. _Instead you were stolen from me_...

"Of course, I'm just worrying, I suppose..." Cullen muttered, the older templar moving closer to look over the hall, watching the many templars escort or drag, depending on the reluctance of the mage, their charges to their cells or studies. "The numbers of newly-made Circle mages is growing very fast, they're not getting time to adjust and be surrounded by their peers...I fear it might make for a volatile situation."

Carver frowned in confusion. "Hence us putting them all here...? These aren't Circle mages Cullen, not yet, we need to..._break them in_, as Meredith said." The older templar cringed at the words, but Carver ignored the show of disrespect with a frown. "So we keep them here until they learn to respect the templars and to submit to our will. Once they've learnt to behave themselves, we'll let them up another level, then another...and so on, they'll become good Circle mages in the end, I'm sure."

"Well that's the thing, we're keeping them all together, they're not meeting any Circle mages, only other apostates, they're only shown punishments, no real rewards..." Cullen shrugged. "I'm just afraid we're teaching a horde of mages not just to fear us, but to hate us too." Carver arched an eyebrow at Cullen, unimpressed. _We're trained __specifically__ to fight mages, why should we fear that_? The templar shot an irritated glance back. "And don't give me that look, I'm merely saying that we ought to use a bit more carrot, and a little less stick."

"Well you're _always_ 'merely saying'." Carver turned to glare at the other templar. "I know you technically outrank me, but I must say it's bloody annoying hearing you criticise Meredith's every decision and order."

Cullen took a step back, but didn't look away as he steadily met Carver's gaze. "Well I'm sorry, but we can't all agree with her every word." A shake of his head. "Meredith is _not_ the Order, Carver, you don't _have_ to agree with everything she says."

Carver felt his face redden as he took a step closer. "If you're saying that I'm some sort of doormat that does everything he-" He growled. "_she_ says, you're dead wrong!" He tapped his breastplate. "But we're templars, and she's within her _full_ rights to expect obedience as _all_ she's done is carry out her duty as-"

"That's enough." Cullen went rigid, chin held high...and after a moment of glaring at the man, so did Carver. Their eyes moved to the side, to the owner of the new voice stepping towards their alcove. Meredith's face was calm, in control, a leader's. "I will not have my two best men at each other's throat." _Best_...? Carver straightened a little more, making Cullen shoot him a glance that he glared away.

"Carver." The man swallowed, but met Meredith's gaze head on, lighting a flicker of approval in her blue eyes even before she spoke. "While I appreciate your zeal, I promoted Cullen fully knowing who he was. I value his council and his intelligence, and while I find him too lenient, such advice opens up the possibility of finding new solutions to problems."

"Cullen." Meredith turned her gaze to Cullen, who met it, though with more reluctance, shoulders slumped. "Carver's loyalty to our cause is not something to be questioned, but celebrated. And while, yes, I value your council, your _doubts_ are not appreciated." The woman narrowed her eyes. "For doubt leads to desire, which leads to corruption, as I've told you many times."

"Perhaps, but with a modicum of-"

"Enough." Meredith shook her head, silencing the Knight-Captain. "These are the facts, I will not have either of you question them." A shrug, and she turned her gaze to Carver. "Now, what is it? You asked for me and I'm short on time, a whole sect of apostates is holed up in Darktown and though surrounded, I need to be there and oversee the final attack."

"A whole sect?" Carver blinked._ Will be a big fight_... "Commander, I volunteer to accompany you."

"Thought you'd say that." Meredith smiled. "Granted, your teachers keep saying you need more hands-on training, after all. Cullen will oversee your duties until you're back." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Now, what about you asking for me?"

"Serah, it's about one of our last catches, a mage named...Nowen?" Carver frowned. _Names are getting stupider all the time, it seems_... "It's well-known that he's one of this Warden-Mage's agents, I'd like us to more..._thoroughly_ question him."

"We're _not_ torturing anyone."

Carver shot Cullen a glare, finding the other templar having crossed his arms over his chest, glaring back. Growling, Carver shook his head. "Did I _say_ torture?" He shot Meredith a look. "Though...scaring him and slapping him around a bit ought to help, he doesn't seem as tough as the other agents we've captured."

Cullen moved to speak, but Meredith was quicker. "I...appreciate that, Carver, but Cullen is right, a surrendered mage is not someone we can go out of our way to harm unless he actively resists us or work against us."

"We've caught three of his 'captured' agents already trying to undermine us from within!" Carver gasped, surprised at Meredith's reply.

"And _those_ were punished." Meredith scowled back. "I _do not_ hand out punishments on the mages without cause, despite whatever Orsino or that Warden may claim. Now, if you have proof he's trying to work against us even now, however..."

_I don't_. Growling, he stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Meredith, we _know_ he holds important information, and he's very likely going to work against us! Why wait until he strikes!?"

"Because it's not right." Cullen grunted, shaking his head. "We templars are just in our treatment of mages, their guardians, _not_ their jailors. It's how we've managed to contain so many for so many years and why families are still willing to give up their children to us, knowing we'll provide a home for their offspring, as well as keeping the rest of the world safe from them."

Meredith was nodding in agreement, making Carver grimace in desperation as he leant even closer. "Remember what you've taught me, Commander. This is more than just one mage, this is about this _war_ with them. A leader must make hard decisions at times, _sacrifices_, but all for the _greater good_...how many more mages will this Warden corrupt? How many more deaths will be on _our_ hands because we didn't catch him or his wayward apostates in time?" He leant even closer, watching Meredith's eyes cloud in thought. "You say we take no risks, but how long can we risk that man and his disciples being free, ready to unleash Maker knows what when one of them stray too far down the path of dark magics...?"

Silence.

Then Meredith begun to slowly nod. "You are...wise, Carver." Cullen gasped, about to speak up, but Meredith was faster yet again. "I will..._think_ on this, yes. Thank you." Pleased, Carver took a step back. "If only your brother would be as wise, I'd have less of a headache."

"My brother?" Carver tensed._ Maker, must we speak of him_...?

Cullen took a step closer to the two, smiling uncertainly. "Commander, I'm not sure we need to-"

Meredith ignored the man, eyes on her other Captain. "Yes, seems he's had the other nobles choose him as 'their' Viscount...a play on words to bypass my ban, and a clear sign of what he's aiming for. Worst of all, it undermines my position as people wonder how much control I truly exert on the city...the nobles are making our job more difficult with this, people in the streets are more defiant than they have any right to be against templars performing their duty."

"Commander, while that might contribute, perhaps the cause for this resistance has to do with-"

This time, Carver was the one interrupting Cullen. "V-Viscount?" _That's just_..._too much, Garrett, is your ambition never sated_? "Can a Champion..." _Maker, I hate that title_. "...even _be_ a Viscount?"

"There's a few instances of it happening, and no law forbidding it." Meredith shrugged, a calm smile on her lips. "Maker knows how he convinced the nobles though, after all, beyond the Chantry, racism against elves is prevalent and considering the man not only has one as a lover..." _I know, I know, don't remind me_... Carver found his hands curling into fists at the hypocrisy of his brother, of him and her together in a way he had no right to. "...but now has her as a fiancée..." _What_?! "...I thought the nobles would be more concerned about who's ruling the city. An elf as the 'first lady' is not something they'd desire."

"I'm...sorry." Carver shook his head, blinking. "D-did you say he's going to _marry_ her?"

"Commander, I-"

Again, Cullen was cut off, Meredith's smile cool and slightly confused. "Of course...didn't you get an invitation?"

Carver's reply was a tightening of his fist, the metal in his gauntlet groaning.

"Ah, shame, I'm sorry." Meredith sighed. "Families are a...difficult thing at times, especially for people such as us. Now, if-"

"I believe Garrett might be working with the Warden-Mage."

Silence.

Meredith looking at Carver, not with surprise, nor pleasure, just a steady gaze.

Cullen staring at him as if he was a madman.

Carver staring back, unable to believe what he'd just said.

"I'm sorry, care to repeat that...?" Meredith finally asked, something strange in her voice. "I've...suspected things, but if you have _proof_...?"

"I...no, Commander...I...forgive me, I'm not sure why..." Carver swallowed, closing his eyes to steady his suddenly racing heart.

Instead, it raced even further as in his mind he saw Merrill twined around Garrett, naked, gasping, moaning-

_No_! Carver opened his eyes, the steel within them making Cullen take a step back even as Meredith steadily met her Captain's gaze. "I'm sorry, but I don't have any proof of this..."

Meredith sighed, looking frustrated. "Then I can't really-"

"...but I know it to be true and I _will_ find you proof."

"Well..." Meredith smiled, a cool yet pleased smirk. "...seems you have a new assignment, Captain."

"I will not fail you."

_Maker, what am I doing_...?

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson, for her commitment._


	72. Chapter 72

Garrett took a deep breath, steadying his nerves and – more importantly – his gaze.

_I'm Viscount, I will show everyone it, no hesitation, no nervousness, no show of doubt or the like, they must see me as iron, as unbending and trustworthy_.

It was night time at the docks, a dangerous time. The lack of people around would normally be a cause for concern, of danger.

Normally.

There was still danger, but it came not from the shadows, but was appearing on the small ship ahead, in the open.

The Tevinters were a curious sight.

Most mages, if in the open street, would be nervous-looking and somewhat ashamed about their appearance. Yet the Tevinter Magister ahead wore his robe like a badge of office, his fingers covered in rings glowing with runes, the golden chain around his neck a heavy-looking object covered in runes of silver and rubies. His grey hair matched his robes, combed back, revealing a square face and cruel grey eyes within a web of thin wrinkles.

Those accompanying him were without a doubt less dangerous, despite that, they looked more intimidating. Their scale armour was a dark grey and covered them from head to toe, their shields displaying a bloodied hand and their hands on the hilts of their swords. On their other hip, whips hung coiled and ready to be used. Worst were their faces, or lack of, their helmets sporting visors shaped like leering demons, the eyes looking through the slits of the visors mere glitters of light in the shadows.

There were thirty of them accompanying their master, hard eyes on Garrett and those around him.

Garrett's entourage was smaller.

Just behind him, Anders stood with a ready staff, the mage eerily quiet, a brooding crow in black among more colourful companions.

Merrill also stood behind him, though slightly to the side so as to better see the approaching delegation, her large eyes curious as they followed the Magister's every move. Garrett didn't like to think about _why_ she was curious about an obvious blood-mage, though.

Varric and Isabela were also there, the dwarf nonchalantly sitting on the stairs at the end of the pier, polishing Bianca without looking up even once. The Rivaini, dressed in leather armour more to conceal her bandages than for its actual protection, looked at ease, leaning against a post with a sign forbidding people to go onto the pier at night.

Besides them, Garrett only had six of his soldiers with him, the men standing at the ready to the flanks, prepared to stop any sudden rush by the Tevinters.

He also had his prisoner, of course.

Fenris, growling under his breath, was on his knees, hands tied behind his back, head downcast, his shoulders shaking with furry.

Danarius, despite having hunted the man for many years, didn't even cast Fenris a glance. Instead, he was smiling at Garrett, casting his arms wide in a friendly gesture, as if he was about to hug the armoured warrior before him. He stopped a few feet away though, smile widening. "Ah, the Viscount apparent, as rumours say? It's an honour to meet you, it's not easy to make an impression on the Tevinters, but even _we_ have heard of your ascent to glory...we as a people love tales of men growing into power by their own ability."

"I'm sure you do." Garrett offered a milder smile back, offering a courteous nod. "As I understand it, Tevinter is the land where ability is everything, no?"

Danarius' smile faltered, unsure if he was being judged or not. "And we take great pride in this, yes...the world is meant to be ruled by those with the power to do so."

"Agreed." Garrett nodded, noting Danarius' smile returning. "I'm not the unofficial Viscount by chance, after all." He shrugged. "Of course, you too are a man of ability, are you not? We do not hear much of the dealings in Tevinter here, I'm afraid, but to be chosen as an ambassador to Kirkwall requires some pull, does it not? Not to mention I've had Fenris tell me many tales of your deeds."

Still, Danarius didn't spare Fenris a glance, his smile cruel. "Well...some had to be..._convinced_, that I was the best choice. But that's always the case in the empire, and as it has no doubt told you, I'm _good_ at getting what I want."

_It_? Garrett tried not to grimace. "Indeed, ambassador." He cocked his head to the side. "I've arranged for an embassy, of course, and hope that'll you find it pleasant enough...for how long do you intend to stay? I'm guessing you have some kind of term?"

"Half a year should be sufficient to deal with some unfinished business here." Danarius offered a cool smirk. "That's not including our current deal though...I must say, I'm glad that I wrote to you, I was unsure if you'd be willing to deal with me. After all, I'd heard Fenris has been working for you." Finally, the man looked down at Fenris, cruel eyes lighting up in satisfaction. "Always need to be someone's dog, eh, Fenris?" He looked back to Garrett, chuckling. "Its instincts are right, but I feel I must discipline it a bit after all this running about and making me put up notes and such."

Behind him, Garrett felt the rest of his group tense at the man's words. He himself remained cool though, offering a curt smile. "You're free to do with your property as you wish, _when_ it's your property." He shrugged. "As for dealing with you...you were quite right in your letter. In light of me bleeding money with trying to fix the city, a donation the size you offered would be...appreciated." He shot Fenris a glance. "I respect Fenris, I do, but your offer is worth more."

"Respect? Eugh, don't feed it that, dogs will lap it up and think themselves worth more than they are." Danarius grimaced. "Still, nothing that can't be beaten out of it, I'm sure...though, if you're saying you've made it more of a problem I guess we should negot-"

"The price remains what it is." Garrett cut in, making Danarius' nostrils flare in anger at being interrupted. "We made a deal, will you not honour it?"

For a moment, Danarius looked ready to lash out...but then he took a deep breath and threw another glance at Fenris. Still on his knees, the elf ignored the man's gaze, staring at the ground in silent fury. Smiling, Danarius nodded. "Very well, let it not be said that Danarius doesn't trade fairly. A hundred sovereigns for my lost slave, no?" A snap of his fingers, and two men dressed in rags appeared on the boat, their backs streaked red by lashes...and in their arms a thick chest of oak they had to struggle to lift onto the pier. Smiling, Danarius gestured at the coming chest. "To your satisfaction?"

"No."

"Excellent, then I shall...no?"

Danarius blinked and looked back to Garrett...and then to Fenris, the lanky elf suddenly on his feet, teal-coloured eyes glaring at the Magister. At the back, still leaning against the post, Isabela brought two fingers to her lips and gave voice to a loud whistle.

Behind Garrett, there was the sound of over a hundred armoured boots running across stone, a great rustling of armour and the unsheathing of swords.

Danarius' smile died, eyes wide as he looked to the left and right, then past Garrett.

The Viscount himself didn't look back though, he didn't have to.

He knew his nobles and their entourage, eager to serve after their earlier purging of the Coterie and the power they'd felt then, were doing just as instructed.

On the pier to his left and right, great numbers of men with crossbows now stood two lines deep, one kneeling, other standing, crossbows aimed at Danarius and his bewildered bodyguards on the pier between them.

Behind them, atop the stairs which Varric still sat on, there would now be a solid wall of noblemen and their warriors. Though hidden in the shadows of the surrounding buildings, there would be no mistaking their drawn weapons or the hundreds of eyes aimed at the small group on the pier.

No one spoke a word.

Letting the moment linger, Garrett shot Fenris a glance, noting the elf strain against his bonds, eyes full of satisfaction at the sight of his old master thrown into confusion, yet champing at the bit to kill the man.

Behind, Isabela approached, dagger ready to cut the elf free.

Garrett stopped her with a shake of his head, making her sheathe the blade with a confused look on her face.

Only then did Garrett turn to look to Danarius, noting the still lingering look of puzzlement on the mage's face. When he spoke, he did so _loudly_, letting _all_ hear him. "No, we will _not_ trade, or did you forget, Magister, that slavery is _illegal_ here?"

"Wh...that's ridiculous...I..." Danarius' gaze was constantly moving, staring at the dozens of crossbows aimed at him, then the many soldiers at Garrett's back, then the pair of mages now glowing with power behind the noble...and a bead of sweat began to run down his forehead.

"We Kirkwallers are _tired_ of your slavers mocking our laws and setting up bases near our coast. Our citizen are _not_ to be preyed upon, least of all by foreigners not even deigning to declare war." Garrett spoke as much to his own men as he did to Danarius. "A new era is coming, one where Kirkwall stands _free_ of outside influences...and in that era, your kind is _not_ welcome here until they can behave like civilised people."

Danarius' eyes turned red, face contorting into a mask of rage, making his bodyguards draw their swords. "You _dare_ to-"

At Garrett's gesture, the crossbowmen let loose, making the slavers at Danarius' back fall as one. The man looked back in shock...and then froze as Garrett's hand caught him by the collar, hoisting him closer. The eyes now looking into Garrett's were back to their usual grey...but the cruelty in them was gone, replaced by fear. "I _dare_, Magister. If there is one thing you'll bring back to the empire, it's the fact that I dare defy them, should they think they can threaten us."

Danarius shook his head in disbelief, the man no doubt having never experienced such a situation at the hands of a non-mage. "The Tevinter imperium is _vast_ and powerful and you-!"

"The Tevinter imperium is _far away_, locked in a war with the Qunari and Kirkwall's walls are one of the most impossing in the Free Marches." Garrett snorted. "I doubt you can sway them into declaring war, never mind make it anything but an empty gesture."

Behind him, Fenris' growl was low yet foreboding. "He's not going anywhere, Hawke..."

Danarius' panicked gaze turned to Fenris, but Garrett shook him, making him look back as Garrett continued. "And if you or any of your ilk thinks to infiltrate our city again, remember that our templars are many and eager with their swords." _Nothing, emptiness, calm_... "And if you think you can infiltrate us through the nobility..." Danarius recoiled at the sudden light in Garrett's eyes. "..._think_ _again_."

Behind him, Fenris, as expected, snapped and rushed forward...only for Anders – the man having been surprisingly helpful in the last few months – to freeze the man in place with a glyph of paralysis. _Sorry, Fenris, he's more valuable alive_.

Grunting, Garrett shoved the mage, making Danarius stumble back and fall onto the pile of dead slavers he'd brought. His eyes wide, he stared at Garrett, mouth working, but no words coming. Garrett kept his tone calm, casually putting a foot on a dead slaver as he leant closer. "So, as their ambassador, I want you to go _back_ to the hole you crawled out of and inform the Tevinters that Kirkwall's nobility and city is _no longer_ for sale. If they wish, they may send another ambassador, but he will _respect_ our citizens, and if he steps out of line but _once_..." Again, Garrett let his eyes begin to glow, making Danarius pull himself backwards. "...he'll _regret_ it."

"Y-you'll live to regret this..." Danarius stammered, slowly coming to his senses as he struggled to his feet.

"A demon once told me that..." Garrett snorted, taking a step back. "...they're but empty words. Go now, before I change my mind."

Danarius, forgetting all about pride and dignity, turned and ran for his ship, shouting at the crew of slaves staring at the exchange from just over the railing to get a move on.

Garrett, meanwhile, stood still as a statue, waiting until the Tevinter ship had cast off and begun to sail out of the harbour.

Only then, did he turn around and raise a fist.

All around him, cheers rose, echoing across the docks as nobles and warriors alike cried out their victory. Garrett couldn't help but smile back, satisfied. _And so we're bound yet closer together in fellowship...and another source of corruption in the city is purged as well, and at minimal cost, but perhaps some diplomatic repercussions with the Tevinters_._ Live to regret it_? _I'll live to enjoy the fruits of my labour, and none will stop that_.

There was one thing missing though, looking away from the nobles for but a moment, Garrett frowned, observing the lack of Fenris.

Noticing his glance, Isabela shot him a sigh and an understanding look even as she turned, no doubt going to find the elf and calm him down.

_Ah well, he'll calm down_..._he got what he wanted, freedom, he just doesn't realise it yet_...

Shrugging, Garrett turned his attention back to the nobles and, unable to help himself, raised both his arms, making their cheers rise into a crescendo that made him smile.

_Kirkwall, you're mine_.

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Aveline felt uncomfortable in a dress, yet the situation called for it.

Standing with an arm hooked into Donnic's was nice though, and it was surprisingly pleasant to stand next to Isabela to her left too.

They were in one of the Hawke estate's gardens, a small, yet pretty one. _Not surprising, Merrill picked it_. Everywhere, butterflies gathered, if drawn to the occasion or the blossoming cherry-trees, Aveline couldn't tell. Rose-bushes lined the paths though opened into a small yard of grass in the centre, one now lined with tables at the edges while remaining open in the centre for the ceremony itself.

The guest-list, like the garden, was small, the selection of people allowed to attend carefully crafted by Garrett, no doubt.

There was no sign of the De Launcet family, despite their vehement support of the Hawkes. The reason for that was currently dabbing her eyes with a tissue, her grey hair elegantly arranged around a face that despite its age and sniffling, was still pretty.

Charles Reinhart was there though, as was his fat wife and beautiful baby girl. The daughter looked like she was about to squeal as she watched the ceremony. Charles was smiling warmly, his wife more politely.

Fenris wasn't there, the man had calmed, according to Isabela, but apparently hadn't cooled enough to come to the wedding.

Either that or Garrett had 'lost' his invitation.

Another one conspicuously missing was Carver. _Not so strange, maybe, are those two even regarding themselves as brothers anymore_?

Not to mention Bodahn and Sandal, the two dwarves having left a week ago...Aveline couldn't help but feel that to be a bad sign of things to come. _Like rats abandoning ship_..._strange, feels like we're finally turning things around_.

Yet Varric was there, as was Anders. One was all grins as he stood to the side, scratching a smiling Maric while watching the ceremony. The other was silent and brooding, yet clearly supporting of the union. _Man's been strange as of late, going out of his way to help Garrett at every juncture_..._guess he sees a chance to undermine Meredith that way_.

Bastile was also there, in the background. The man in the full ceremonial armour of a chevalier, an honour guard of twenty soldiers at his back, ready to escort the bride and groom later on.

At the centre, Garrett dressed in black but also a long red cloak, looked every inch a noble, imposing like some statue of black marble even when kneeling. In contrast Merrill, dressed in a white dress as long as the man's cloak, looked as thin and frail as glass compared to the man she was marrying. _They do look beautiful together_..._at least that's something_.

Aveline personally had some doubts about them though. It felt like the marriage hadn't evolved into being _despite_ everything they'd been through, but _because _ of it. The two had always seemed best together when in the heat of the moment, when _pushed_. But marriage was more than about surviving crisis's and heated moments...Aveline knew that well. Smiling at him, she squeezed Donnic's arm. _The everyday must work too_... Her smile faltered as she looked to the couple. ..._do they have that though_?

Ahead, the priestess hired to perform the ceremony was droning on. The Chant was lovely, Aveline had to admit, but the priestess was clearly trying to impress the others with how many verses she had memorized._ I'm __sure__ Merrill's and Garrett's knees appreciate that_... Leaning to her left, she shot Isabela a whisper. "I'm surprised Merrill's okay with a Chantry wedding?"

"There's another one, even more private..." Isabela shot Charles and his family a nod as she whispered back. "...later on." She snickered. "Merrill's been teaching _Orana_ to play the role as Keeper...poor girl will be petrified despite how few we'll be."

"We'll be nice though." Aveline replied, giving the pirate a warning look that made the Rivainin smirk back. "Besides, not so fun why she has to teach the servant that instead of sending for the _actual_ Keeper..."

Isabela grimaced. "Tell me about it, Merrill's been a mess about it. That Keeper might _act_ all wise and mighty, you know, but she's a bit of a jerk...she outright _refused_ when she was over here. All she did was spout some bull about her respecting Merrill's decision but that her duties as a Keeper meant she could not bless a union with a shemlen...and yes, she _did_ use that term, to his _face_ to boot."

"Oh yes, forgot that you've been here a lot as of late." Aveline shot Isabela's bandages, visible under the usual tunic she wore, _despite_ the occasion, a glance. "Looks like you're wearing less of that now though, soon you can take them all off." She smirked, unable to help herself. "Must be strange, not being the woman with the largest breasts in the area."

Isabela guffawed. "Hey, big girl, I'm just trying to be nice to you and let you feel a little better of yourself!"

Before Aveline could respond to the taunt, Donnic sighed with a blush. "Could you two stop discussing breasts right now...?" He looked away, shrugging. "Besides, Leandra is also here."

_What_!? Aveline stared at the man in shock even as Isabela tittered. "Ohhh...nice one, Donnic! Not getting any for a month or two now, but nice one!" She jabbed Aveline's elbow. "Hey, big girl, he's just trying to play along, no way he'd want any but yours." At the words, Donnic looked back, offering Aveline a sheepish look verging on a smile.

Sighing, Aveline shook her head and shot him an exasperated smile, then Isabela another one. "You two allying? My nightmare is coming true."

Ahead, the priestess was finally reaching the end of her babbling. "Now, does anyone, under the Maker's gaze, have any objection to this union?"

_Maker_...

Aveline looked about herself, expecting someone to burst forth with a protest, or one of the guests to do so.

Yet there was only silence.

Smiling, a look of serene bliss on her face, the priestess looked down on the couple. "Then I, by the power granted to me by the light of the Maker, pronounce you husband and wife."

Above, atop the roof of the estate, the flag carrying the Hawke heraldry unfurled, a cloud of white doves escaping a turret next to it.

Beyond, there was a distant, yet powerful, cheer, the massive crowd gathered outside the estate giving voice to the approval of their idol and Champion marrying, despite to whom he was tying the knot.

The woman in question was glowing though, as if every cheer was aimed at her, as if the light of the sun shining down on them was for the two of them alone. When she turned, it was to instantly kiss the smiling man, then to pull away with a blush and a look at the others in the garden...and then to kiss him again, this time with more passion.

Slowly, Garrett's arms wound around the elf, shattering the illusion that she was frail as he squeezed her tight and lifted her off the ground as he rose, kissing her back.

Ahead, Leandra was turning her head, pressing her face into Charles' shoulder and crying.

Varric was muttering some teasing joke at Maric, who wisely ignored the dwarf and instead barked out his support.

Anders was applauding, a slow but steady clapping of gloved hands.

Next to Aveline, Isabela let loose a whistle of approval even as she joined in the clapping.

Aveline, unable to help herself, added her own hands to the applause with Donnic following suit, then caught herself moving a hand up to the corner of her eye, brushing aside a tear.

_They do look beautiful together_...

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson, for the thousands upon thousands of little gems that make writing so much easier and more fun._


	73. Chapter 73

In his dream, the house was shaking.

Garrett blinked in confusion. "M-Merrill...?" Forcing his eyes open, he focused his blurry vision on the other end of the bed...and found his arm not around his love, but resting on an empty and cool mattress. "Merrill?" He raised his head and looked around, but found the room empty and dark, his black clothes and crimson cloak wrapped around her white dress on the floor where they'd left them. "Merrill? Where-"

The house shook again, for _real_.

Accompanied by a boom.

"Merrill!?" Garrett was suddenly on his feet, dazed, confused, but instinct drove him, making him rush for his sword resting on a table, gripping it tight before rushing for the door.

A shrill scream shot through the estate, full of horror and pain.

"_Merrill_!?" Garrett wrenched the door open and stepped into the hall, the air cold against his bare chest, making his sleepy nerves tingle. In the hall, a smell of sulfur and brimstone struck him from the right.

So he dashed that way, running, leaping past fleeing servants.

An explosion shook the house, accompanied by a crash of falling armour.

Now fully awake, Garrett turned a corner, _ran_, eyes widening as his brain worked overtime. _This is the way to mother's room, why is_-

Opposite the door to Leandra's room, Bastile sat, in full armour, cracked and smoking, his helmet off and blood dripping down his forehead and a dazed look in his eyes. "Bastile!?" Garrett drew his blade, throwing the sheath aside, leaping over the man's legs. "Mother!?"

The woman's room was trashed, freezing Garrett's blood.

Her bed was split in two, feathers from within it still flying through the air. A cupboard lay fallen, a table smashed, pieces of glass strewn over the floor along with a gory mess of blood. "MOTHER!?"

"Serah..." Whirling about, Garrett found Bastile weakly lifting his arm, eyes trying to focus on his lord. "...I saw...tried to..."

Instantly, Garrett was kneeling by the man, gripping his armoured shoulder and holding the man's gaze. "Tell me everything, quickly, man!"

"De Launcet..." _What_!? Bastile shook his head, gaze flickering to the room with a look of fright, then back to Garrett. "...ring of blood, I saw him come through a ring of blood..."_ Blood, blood_.._.__not__ her blood, Maker_...

With a mixture of terror and relief, Garrett shook the man as the dazed look returned. "De Launcet!? He's a noble and not a mage!"

Bastile's answer was a cough and a smile. "And lady Merrill is just an elf...no?" The smile faded, turning to an angry growl. "He took lady Hawke...sent me flying when I opened the door..." Suddenly, the man's hand shot out, grabbing Garrett by the shoulder, eyes intense. "Take her _back_!"

For a moment, Garrett only stared at the concussed Chevalier. Then he nodded. Stood up. "I will."

Next to him, the elves Fenn and Orana had appeared, the woman with a cushion to put under Bastile's head, the other with a cup of wine.

Garrett, ignoring them, turned on his heel and began to march back the way he came. "Pip!" The wide-eyed sergeant coming around the corner stared at the noble. "Assemble the men in the front yard! I want _everyone_ out!"

Then he was in the armoury, not remembering even having taken the steps to reach it.

_Where's Merrill!? Did he take her too_!?

His new suit of silverite armour was cold and hard, plates polished to a mirror shine and smoothly fitting to his body as he fast and with precise tugs and wrenches strapped each piece on a little too tightly. Sword sheathed into his belt, Garrett strapped his shield on too, fist gripping it clenching hard.

_I'm going to kill him_.

A servant appeared in the doorway, his words lost in the buzz filling Garrett's mind, simply nodding to the man, Garrett brushed past him, sending the elf stumbling aside.

_If he's hurt her in any way._.._I'll rip that stupid cock off him and ram it down his throat_!

Outside, the air was cool and crisp, the darkness hinting at light to come, yet it was not yet dawn.

_Nor will there be for him_!

Ahead, men and women were running into position, armour hurriedly being strapped on or even forgotten, some lacking all but their swords. Others, having been faster, already standing in attention in full gear, halberds, spears and shields glinting in the torchlight of a lone servant.

"Soldiers!" Garrett didn't stop marching, heading right for the gate. "Lady Hawke has been taken!" A mutter of surprise echoed down the line, and Garrett ignored it. "We're taking her back _right now_!" Worried glances were exchanged. Meanwhile, Garrett gestured at the guard by the gate, making the woman hurry to open it as he looked back to his troops, counting near fifty, the entire estate's garrison at his command. "Follow me!"

Despite the worried frowns, the reply of the soldiers was as one, a deep chorus, echoing through the darkness."Yes, Serah!"

Garrett, whirling about, stepped into the streets, strides long and fast as he strode over cobbled stones. First he was walking down streets, then across the central plaza, his soldiers loudly following, a column of steel and muscle unexpectedly appearing in the darkness.

_He has mother_. _He has_..._maybe he has_..._both of them_.

Garrett's strides lengthened.

Few were out at that hour, those who did, wisely scurried off. Even the prostitutes, at first acting as if they could court someone in the column, skulked off at the sight of the man at the front glaring at them. At the plaza, a few of the city guard stood, eyes wide as they stared at the column, those paired together exchanging puzzled whispers. Hawke was paying their salaries, and technically a lord was allowed to march with an armed escort through the town...but at _night_, with a small _army_?

Finally, one of the guards turned and ran towards the barracks.

Garrett watched him go, waving at some of his men to not pursue.

_Irrelevant_.

Ahead, the De Launcet estate loomed. A fine main building of white marble and gilded archways, it was as luxurious as befit a wealthy Orlesian. Even the walls, now built high, were white and with gilded spikes at the top to dissuade any would-be climber. The gate, of burnished steel with a single vision slit, looked impossible to breach.

_It'll open_.

The slit had been opened, a pair of wide eyes staring at Garrett and approaching troops. "W-who goes th-there...?"

"You know bloody well who, open the gate." Garrett called back, still marching forward.

"I...m-master Guillaume h-has."

Raising a fist, Garrett stopped his column and silenced the gatekeeper. He himself kept approaching though. "Open. The. Gate."

_Now_!

Beyond, the eyes widened even further. "I...I can't, he'd-"

"Let me tell you what _I_ will do if you don't open the gate." Garrett interrupted, stepping right in front of the metal, one fist pounding into it with force enough to make the gatekeeper jump back. Garrett stared down at the man, growling. "I'll start, in poetic justice, with your _family_. I will-"

With a click, the gate was unlocked.

"Wise." Garrett kicked the gate, sending it swinging open, revealing a large garden and a gatekeeper already running away. "Forward march!"

Stepping into the yard, Garrett saw black shapes approach from the right, two of the foremost materializing into two men in leather armour, swords drawn. "Stupid elf! He's not allowed to enter!" The foremost shouted. "Men, to me! Charge!" He rushed at Garrett.

Garrett ducked low under the man's swing, and as they passed one another, Garrett's sword was drawn with a flourish of silver and red.

Groaning, the commander of De Launcet's forces doubled over, clutching at the gaping wound in his left side.

The next man threw himself at Garrett, only to have the noble throw him back with a punch of his shield. A moment later, Garrett lunged, the thrust slicing its way through just under the man's chin before smashing its way through bone and brain, making his foe freeze, unable to understand his sudden death.

Silence, the dark shapes of the rest of the garrison coming to a stop.

Then their companion fell backwards, crashing into a bush with a cough and a gush of blood.

"You! Halt!" Garrett swung the blade towards the remaining garrison...and as one they froze still. "Weapons down! Pip! Have them restrained!"

In a rush of soldiers obeying, the De Launcet garrison began to back off, unsure and afraid as they lowered their weapons at the face of the many Hawke troops approaching them.

_Good_. Garrett, lowering his blade, turned his attention to the De Launcet mansion, eyes narrowing.

Behind him though, a man putting his hand on Garrett's shoulder. "Serah, I'll lead some men to accompany-"

"I'm perfectly capable of gutting a man myself, Pip." Garrett interrupted, making the hand let go as if burnt. "And this is a family-matter."

He marched forward, alone.

_They __better__ be okay_...

Ahead, the steps leading up to the double-doors were few and finely decorated.

Garrett marched up them, putting his helmet on and lowering the visor.

The double-doors loomed before him, white and gold, yet somehow dark and evil, foreboding with promises of death and pain.

Garrett marched straight at them, launching his foot at them.

With a crunch, the doors gave way, swinging open so hard they swung back, slamming shut behind Garrett even as he turned his head, narrowed eyes searching. "**Launcet**! **Show** **yourself**!"

The large room looked like it had been taken straight out of a nightmare.

The floor of the main hall was smeared with blood, pale bodies were strewn across the walls, some stuck on spears and pikes, the bodies of _elves_, of _servants_. At the centre of the floor, a large altar of stone had been dragged forth. Dulci De Launcet, or what was left of her, lay naked on the altar, her hands and feet bound to the corners, her ribs sticking up towards the roof, steaming organs from within hanging down the front of the altar.

At its feet, a giggling Emile, her son, sat in a pool of blood, the equally naked boy shaking back and forth.

Garrett, despite his rage, took a step back.

Ahead, a long set of stairs ran up to a large balcony, reaching so far up, Garrett had to turn his neck to catch sight of it...and growl as he finally saw his prey. "_**Launcet**_!"

The man, looking as finely dressed and noble as he usually did, smiled down at Garrett, though his sunken brown eyes carried the light of madness, a flicker of purple within them. "Hawke...your mother and I have something to tell you...Leandra, dear?" He turned, gesturing for someone...and Garrett felt his heart wrench tight as he saw _her_.

Leandra was wearing a beautiful red dress, and a glowing smile, her eyes shining with happiness. "I've finally agreed to marry him, dearie...I hope it doesn't come as a surprise, but he was just so...persuasive." The smile was beautiful, wonderful...yet _wrong_, the corner of the lips turning into a smirk as she twisted her head...and a drop of blood escaped a barely visible cut across her throat. _Maker_... "You like my new look?"

More blood escaped the wound, then _more_, a crimson tide running down the woman's neck, fusing with her dress even as Guillaume smiled at her in adoration. The woman's eyes were on _Garrett_ though, amusement flickering in them, the room seemingly pulsing with power, of magic.

Garrett stared, his world turning into nothing but that room, of that feeling, once boiling in him, now overpowering all, surging into him...

"**NO**!" Garrett rushed forward.

"Son, please stop him!" Guillaume laughed, embracing Leandra, coating the front of his tunic in blood. "He wants to take your new mother away from us!"

A shriek, and Emile threw Dulci's heart aside and launched himself at Garrett's swinging sword.

A second later he crashed back into the altar, his head split in two.

"He's trying to kidnap me!" Leandra shrieked, terror in her voice as she clutched Guillame's hands...yet beneath it all, there was mockery, a laugh about to bubble out. "Servants, please, save your mistress!"

All around, the pale bodies, drained of blood, pulled themselves to their feet, some ripping themselves free from the spears and pikes holding them and pulling the weapons free.

Roaring in defiance, Garrett didn't stop to wait for them, he rushed into the foremost, crushing a skull into a smear of brains and bone against the wall while cutting another in two along the waist.

Now, Guillaume laughed, amused as Garrett roared back in wordless rage. "I thought you were a templar, Hawke!?"

Garrett howled back, spinning as a pike brushed against his breastplate, lashing shield shattering the skull of the dead elf charging him even as his sword parried a lunging spear before cutting the hands off the user with a furious backhand slash.

"This will be easier than we had planned, my love..." Leandra crooned, her voice holding a strange undercurrent.

In the hall, Garrett was spinning, shield and sword blindly slashing, smashing, crushing, killing. The naked corpses fell, broken and torn apart, yet they kept coming, mindlessly throwing themselves at the man of silverite and rage.

"That's it, _get_ _angry_!" Guillaume laughed.

All around, the corpses rose anew and burst into flames, flames roaring with life, forming great maws and long claws.

They bellowed at Garrett, their unnatural and complete state of rage washing over him like a wave.

Garrett roared back, throwing himself at one of the demons, tackling it and lifting it off the floor, his silverite armour glowing with the heat pressing against it even as he threw the creature into another, blindly hacking at them before they could recover, splitting limbs of fire and smoke, ripping the flesh the creatures inhabited apart.

All around him, the room erupted into fire and heat, waves of it rushing at him, smashing into his raised shield as he braced against it, the sheer force of it making his boots slide across the boiling blood and blackening marble.

_I_..._will_..._not_... Garrett staggered, sweat pouring down his body, stinging his eyes, hissing and rising in steam from his armour as he slid further and further back. Hate you!

Then his back was against the wall, his armour glowing red, the edges of his shield crumpling at the heat.

Beyond, Guillaume was laughing like a madman, Leandra with him, yet it was _not_ Leandra...

Garrett's eyes narrowed.

"_Enough_!"

The boom of energy sent the demons reeling back, their streams of fire evaporating like clouds.

The rage, focused into a singularity in Garrett, became a dark nothing, an emptiness. Garrett, taking a step forward, lashed out with it.

Again, the demons reeled back, the fire in their bodies fading, smouldering coal replacing it.

Growling low, Garrett advanced.

A demon tried to lash at him, and he smashed the claw aside and cut the arm into pieces, his return-stroke slashing another across the face, sending both evaporating into ash.

Around him, demons lunged from all sides. _Stop_. The singularity lashed out, the emptiness sending the demons backwards, making them wail in agony. Beyond, Leandra was gasping. _Now_.

"**Launcet**!" Garrett's roar exploded from his throat as he rushed forth, then lunged to the left, then right, then back, sword and shield swinging and smashing. All around, the demons, brittle coal now, slow and weak, shattered into ash. "**Face me**!"

A cry, and Garrett turned in time to see Guillaume come flying, the man leaping straight off the balcony, two blades of what seemed to be solid blood in his hands. "You will not deny me her!" The man slashed at Garrett, the blade in his hands moving like a snake, ducking under Garrett's blade before striking his breastplate and making him stagger back. "I waited twenty-seven _years_ for her!" He lunged with his other blade, the weapon extending like a whip, lashing against Garrett's helmet. "I will not be denied a _second_ longer!" Spinning, Launcet swung both blades at Garrett, making the noble jump back as his shield dented under the powerful impacts. "She is _mine_!"

Again, Launcet spun with his swings.

But this time Garrett took a step forward, ducking under one slash while letting the other scratch his shoulder-plate, his own blade disappearing into De Launcet's gut.

The mage froze, eyes going wide in surprise, looking down at the blade as he slid to his knees.

"_I_ deny you." Garrett growled, pulling his blade free and taking a step back.

Guillaume stared at him, his face twitching as it twisted into a grimace of hatred.

A moment later Garrett's sword flickered out, sending Guillaume's head rolling across the floor.

Silence.

A long breath.

Shaking arms.

Then a whisper. "Oh baby..." Looking up, Garrett's eyes widened in shock at the sight of Leandra struggling down the stairs, the woman clutching at her throat with one hand as the other gripped the railing tight. Her eyes were alight with relief. "...my son...you've saved me..."

Garrett took a step closer, confused as he watched his mother coming close to the end of the stairs. "Mother, I..."

"...you've saved my _life_, heh..." Leandra smiled wide, struggling down the steps. "...you protected me and did so, hah, well..." _M_-_mother_...? Coming to a stop at the last step, Leandra threw her head back. "Hahahahahaha!"

Garrett, frozen still, could only stare as his mother's dress crumpled, the skin beneath shifting, as the laughter turned cruel and ethereal.

Her laughter slowly ebbing, Dhavine bared her fanged teeth in a cruel smile as she slowly looked back down at him. "Told you, you would regret crossing me..."

Garrett lowered his shield and sword.

"Lost for words? How unlike you..." Dhavine purred, her face changing to a motherly smile. "Son."

Garrett took a step back.

"What? Won't fight me, brother?" Bethany's face twisted into a coy smile as she raised a long and curved blade of pure darkness. She looked down at herself, smirking. "Remember when we used to bathe together when we were young? What if we did that now? Would you show how loving a brother you truly are...?"

Garrett's eyes widened in horror and anger.

The face before him changed again, Carver snorting at him. "Well, you _do_ have a habit of screwing the family, no?"

A roar, and Garrett launched himself at the demon.

Leandra parried his swing, eyes wide in terror. "Son, no!"

_Pain_!

Garrett staggered back, the dark blade having smashed him across the shoulder the moment he'd hesitated.

"Oh, that looked painful, ma Vhenan..." Merrill looked at him with a wince of sympathy...then smirked. "Want me to kiss it better?" A hiss, and a forked black tongue lashed out from between her lips.

"Stop that!" Garrett roared, launched himself at his love, swinging wild, driving her back.

"Stop what? Fighting unfairly?" Merrill blinked in confusion, then Carver was scowling at him. "Like you'd done anything _but_ that."

"Argh!" Roaring, Garrett gripped the man by the shoulders, heaving him away and sending him flying into the wall. "I'll kill you!"

"Well you have to be good at something, right?" Gamlen grunted, struggling to his feet, black blade used as a crutch as he licked away some dark blood from his lip. Looking up, he glared at Garrett. "Not very good at the defending your family bit, after all, eh?"

A mindless bellow, and Garrett rushed forth, slashing the blade out of Gamlen's hands, then smashing his shield into his face and against the wall.

Looking back at him, her face a ruined mess, Merrill cried. "Y-you c-can't pro-protect an-anyone, c-can you...?"

A cry, and Garrett threw the woman to the floor, despair gripping him.

"Funny how you _desire_ us safe..." Bethany looked up at him, smirking.

Garrett went cold.

"I'll deny you just that, they'll _never_ be safe." She rose. "None of your family, extended or otherwise, will be safe under your protection. _This_, I promise you..."

Garrett took a step forward, then stopped, blinking furiously, shaking with horror and grief.

"...and you believe me now, don't you..." Leandra smiled. "...son?"

Roaring, Garrett rushed forward.

A gasp, and Garrett looked down, finding Merrill looking up at him, clutching at him while his bloodied blade was sticking out her back. The elf's smile was cool, calculating and amused. "You'll get used to killing your family..." For a moment, Dhavine's face flickered before him, beautiful eyes flashing with her victory, dark tongue touching Garrett's lip.

Then Leandra lay in his arms, the woman's eyes were closed, the cut across her throat no longer pumping blood, her body pale as marble, the blade in her chest covered in her blood.

Garrett fell to his knees, lost for words, lost for _thought_.

All but one.

_No_.

8

8

8

_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for being such a tough nut_.


	74. Chapter 74

Taking a deep breath, Varric took in the scene and, not for the first time, wondered if it could get any more depressing.

It had been but a day, just enough time to set up the funeral that would be held in a few hours- Something Varric had found himself doing alone as Garrett had, for once, been incapable of doing his job.

Garrett had at least finally shed his armour and was now, after much coaxing from Varric, dressed in the proper black clothes of mourning. Not that the clothes were necessary to tell that the man was mourning the death of his mother.

He was sitting on his bed, arms hanging limply by his sides, staring at the floor with an empty look in his eyes that hadn't even seemed to notice Varric's entering a few minutes ago. His eyes were rimmed red from tears that by now had stopped falling, his eyes now holding an eerie emptiness, all plans and turning wheels behind his hard eyes blown away, replaced by disbelief and apathy.

The room looked just like it had at the moment of the attack, or so the ruffled bed with the cover still thrown off suggested, for Varric doubted the man had slept for even a second since it had all happened. By the foot of the bed, on the floor, Merrill's and Garrett's wedding clothes still lay, intertwined like lovers. The elf herself was sitting behind Garrett, on the bed and on her knees, looking guilty and in pain as her hand constantly moved up to the man's shoulder, only to drop before she'd actually touch him.

_Hmmm_...

Varric had picked up a lot of what had happened from the servants and soldiers, not to mention Aveline who'd been too furious to hold back the results of her investigation of the assault on the De Launcet mansion. Yet for all that, he'd heard not a word about Merrill, not of what she'd been doing the entire time, or if she'd even been _there_.

_What have you been doing, Daisy_? Noticing his inquisitive look, Merrill flinched and looked away. _Damn, that's not a good sign_. Frowning, Varric moved a little closer to the couple, eyes on Garrett. "The funeral's still a few hours away, mate. Maybe go to the kitchen and have something to eat? Maric's down there, somewhere..." _Of all the days to have the dog off hunting with Donnic_..._yes, it's about giving the newly-weds privacy, but_ _he would have noticed the danger before anyone else_..._where __is__ he anyway_?! _He should be here_. "...and you look a little pale." 

"Of course I do." Garrett replied, tone curt and dull.

_Well_..._at least he answered_. Varric cocked his head to the side and sighed. "She was a fine lady..." Garrett's hands twitched at the 'was', but otherwise there was no reaction. "...and deserved better than what she got." Garrett's neck bulged, the man biting down, clenching his teeth. Varric, unsure, spoke softly. "But it's _not_ your fault what happened."

For a moment, every muscle in Garrett's body seemed to tense, the man about to spring up and...Varric wasn't sure what he would do, but nothing good. But then the man simply relaxed, his head dropping lower between his shoulders as he let out a shuddering breath. A low mutter escaped him, but what of, Varric couldn't tell.

Whatever it was, it made Merrill grimace though. "Ma Vhenan..." Her voice was but a whisper. "...you couldn't have saved her..." Finally, she put a hand on the man's shoulder, hesitant smile on her lips, gently trying to soothe the man.

Garrett's reply was a dully voiced question. "And where were you?"

Merrill's smile disappeared, eyes widening.

Watching with a lump in his throat, Varric heard Garrett speak, voice still empty and seemingly emotionless. "Our wedding night and I find you gone, where were you? Why weren't you around to help?"

Merrill blinked and swallowed, her hand letting go of Garrett's shoulder.

"Where were you?" Garrett raised his head, eyes bitter, looking straight at the wall in front of him.

Behind him, Merrill inched backwards, hands in front of her mouth, tears suddenly running down her cheeks.

_Oh no, not back at the Alienage with the mirror_... Varric quickly spoke up. "Hey, buddy, why don't-"

"You weren't on the estate, so where else?" Suddenly, Garrett turned, a slow and deliberate movement as he looked at Merrill, eyes cold. "Where else _could_ you have gone?"

Merrill, shaking her head, sobbed, her words little gasps. "L-love, I..."

"In the Alienage." Garrett answered his own question. "With your _mirror_..." The last word came out like a hiss as Garrett took a deep breath. "...weren't you?"

"Ma Vhen-"

"Weren't you?" Garrett was visibly trembling, but his gaze was steady, boring into Merrill as she kept inching back on the bed, still shaking her head in denial as tears of guilt ran down her face. "With the mirror containing Dhavine?"

Varric, hesitating, raised a hand. "Maybe we should all take a deep-"

"Dhavine that controlled De Launcet like a puppet?" Garrett rose to his feet, turning to face the trembling elf, eyes hard. "Who convinced him to _slit her throat_?"

Merrill was shaking, looking at him in disbelief. "I...I didn't n-notice an-anything, sh-she d-didn't-"

"_Who killed my mother_!?" The sudden shout made Merrill and Varric both jump back, watching with wide eyes as Garrett's face turned red. "You were _chatting_ with the demon even as she killed my mother!?"

Varric was suddenly moving, hand pressing into Garrett's chest...who pressed back, hard, nearly bowling the dwarf over. _Maker_!

"Did you _cause_ this!? Do you even _know_!?" Garrett's eyes were like fire, terrifying enough to make Varric question standing before him, even if it was to protect the elf from her enraged husband. "Are _you_ the reason she's _dead_!?"

"No!" Merrill was retreating to the far end of the bed, pulling the cover with her like a shield, shaking her head and looking away even as she pulled the sheet in front of her face, a hint of hysteria in her voice. "No! No! No! No! No! No! No!"

"Garrett, please-"

"No, Varric!" Garrett didn't even give the dwarf a look as he glared at his wife, pressing into Varric's hand to the point that the dwarf had to put both hands on the human and push back with all his might. "I want to hear her answer! I want to hear my fucking_ wife_ tell me she didn't have something to do with the death of my _mother_!"

Silence.

All but Merrill's sobbing, punctuated by whimpering denials escaping her cover.

Then, a slam of a door crashing open in the distance, swiftly followed by another.

Varric turned his head in a frown, just about able to hear the scratching of steel against stone, the sound of many footsteps.

Looking up, he found Garrett not moving one inch though, his eyes on Merrill, hiding under her cover. His face was no longer red, but a sickly pale, eyes like hard bronze daggers, pointed at her.

_Maker, he looks ready to kill her_...

It was hard for Varric to wrap his head around, yet at the same time not.

_Those we love hurt us the most_...

Then there was another crashing sound, this time accompanied by a shout and a cry of pain.

Garrett remained still, a vein in his neck throbbing with alarming speed.

Then he turned with a snarl of disgust and marched away.

The slam when he closed the door made the entire room shake.

Varric found himself breathing out the air he hadn't known he was holding and slowly lowered his hands, surprised to find them trembling. _Maker, that was too close_. Varric slowly lowered his shoulders and turned, looking at the whimpering shape under the cover at the other end of the bed. _Oh Daisy_... Wincing, he reached out-

"I'd...I'd like to be alone right now, Varric." The whimper, full of pain and guilt, stopped hishand. _But you're all_... Varric hesitated, hand still ready to move to comfort_. _..._and if Garrett's right_? He lowered it. "Th-thank you..."

Throwing a last look at the elf, hidden under the covers, Varric grimaced and turned away, knowing there was nothing to do. _This is painful_..._too__ painful, wedding was so lovely and now_..._Maker, the luck of the Hawkes is cursed_. He managed a pained shrug._ I'll just_..._be there for them both_. "You know where to find me if you want to talk."

With that offer, he left the elf to her pain.

Outside, he found Fenn, the servant, running by, clutching a bruised cheek as with narrowed eyes he rushed past with barely a nod in the dwarf's direction. _What the_...?

Varric, turning, ran the way the elf had come from.

He didn't have to go far. Soon, he was in the main ballroom of the estate, the corridor ending at the balcony overlooking the large floor beneath.

Garrett was standing just at the end of it, where he'd once stood while meeting with his rebellious nobles. He was leaning on the balustrade with hands gripping it so tight they'd turned as pale as the marble underneath, yet for his foreboding appearance, he remained silent, his dark clothes and expression making him seem a raven, brooding down at those beneath.

Stepping closer, Varric caught himself gasping at the sight.

There were two dozen templars, fully armed and armoured, in the room beneath. Several of them had some of the servants of the house pressed up against the walls, weapons drawn and their voices hard and demanding when booming from their helmets.

At the centre, however, stood three all too distinct figures over a single huddled one.

Meredith was standing tall, scowling down at Orana, the elf servant was – in contrast to Fenn – unharmed, yet looked more beaten than him, the submissive look of a beaten slave on her face as she sat and stared at the floor.

Crouching next to his commander, Cullen looked like he wanted to be anywhere but where he currently was even as he spoke to Orana with what seemed to be soft words._ The good guard, bad guard routine? That's a little cliché_. Despite the thought, Varric found nothing amusing with the sight, instead he felt his trigger-finger itch. _This is wrong_,_ hasn't she been through enough_? _Haven't we all_?

The only one who seemed to have noticed Garrett was Carver. The man was standing on Meredith's other side, armour shining in the lamplight, cloak of purple hanging from his shoulders, looking every inch a templar, champion and knight. He wore an expression of grim hostility on his face though, eyes hard blue orbs – different, yet terribly alike his brother's – that were _fixed_ on the man looking down at the scene playing out before him.

Cocking his head to the side, Varric followed Carver's gaze.

_Oh dear_.

Garrett's face was silent fury, a mad light in his eyes, his entire face speaking of tension ready to snap, _wanting_ to snap.

He didn't wait for an excuse.

"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

The shout, carried by the man's position in the room, boomed across the walls, freezing everyone in place.

Everyone but Meredith, the woman coldly looking up at Garrett and taking a step forward. "Garrett Hawke, by the authority vested in me by the Chantry and the Maker, I hereby hold you under arrest, to have yourself and all who know you questioned, to have clerks read through all-"

"GET OUT!"

Meredith frowned at the blunt order, almost looking confused. "I will _not_."

Cullen, rising to his feet, grimaced as he spoke. "My apologies, Serah, but the Templar order has been notified of the recent fighting in the De Launcet estate, one culminating in, as witnesses say, in 'fire and brimstone'. Many templars in the area also sensed much magic and noticeable _blood-magic_ and _demon-summoning_ going on. There's already been confirmations that your mother was attacked and killed by a blood-mage too."

"And corruption _spreads_." Meredith coolly finished, eyes steady as she held Garrett's gaze.

"What my commander is saying is that the veracity of these claims must be ascertained and that you and your household must be checked for demon-corruption and magic." Cullen quickly spoke, then continued hastily, looking nervous as his gaze danced between Garrett and Meredith. "Plus, investigations launched by Templar officials..." Cullen's gaze guiltily darted to the glaring Carver, though Garrett didn't seem to notice. "...has revealed small pieces of evidence as well as testimonies from various individuals that you might have ties with the man known as the Warden-Apostate, who is openly attacking the order in this city."

Meredith, surprisingly, didn't look pleased or victorious after Cullen's words. Instead she reminded Varric of Aveline, stern, unflinching of the danger she might be in and ready to do her duty. "You will come with us, as will all in the estate."

Silence.

Garrett took a deep breath.

Then closed his eyes, taking another.

When he opened them, they were still full of fury, but his tone was calmer, _harder_. "No."

Meredith's tone was as hard, unbending. "You _must_. It's the Chantry's _law_, and you _will_ obey it."

"Yet you will _not_ take me." Garrett straightened, a haughty look on his face. "Nor any of my fellow nobles or those under my protection. They will not be _questioned_, they will not be _harassed_, they will be _left alone_."

For a long moment, there was nothing but silence, then Cullen, looking worried, tried to speak. "Perhaps we should all-"

Carver was faster, his growl laced with disgust. "You are not to decide that. You've reminded Meredith again and _again_ that secular law is not hers to enforce, spiritual law, however, _is_."

"_Irrelevant_." Garrett snapped back. From his angle, Varric could see the man's legs shake, though if it was from fear or anger, the dwarf couldn't tell. His tone, however, made no question as to what he felt. "You will turn away and leave my home this moment."

"Or _what_?" Carver interrupted with a snort, eyes narrowing as he inched closer to Meredith; rallying to his leader, ready to rush into a breach.

The crash of every door in the large room opening was nearly deafening.

Staring in shock, Varric watched as the floor where the templars stood was flooded by Garrett's guards. Halberds, swords and spears, lowered and ready, forced the stunned templars back and away from the servants they'd questioned. Rushing past Varric, moving to the flanks of Garrett, steadying themselves against the balustrade, more of them appeared and lowered loaded crossbows at the templars below.

_You have to_..._I_...

Varric, despite thinking himself as a man able to think on the fly and take things as they came, found himself lost for words.

_What_...?

Below, Cullen looked as shocked as Varric felt, and _afraid_. Carver, eyes wide, looked around himself in disbelief. As did most of the other templars, men and women not ever having been at the wrong end of a blade finding themselves surrounded by grim-looking warriors seemingly ready to die and kill on their lord's order.

The only one not reacting to the horde of armed warriors was Meredith, the woman's eyes hard as they held Garrett's gaze.

Garrett's reply was cold. "Or you'll be _escorted_ out."

For the longest time, nothing happened.

Meredith and Garrett simply standing there, scowling at one another, the tension thick, between them as well as in the room.

Slowly, both began to narrow their eyes, making Varric swallow.

Then Cullen cleared his throat. "I...threatening someone with weapons is a secular crime and-"

"And I'm sure _my_ Magisters will find me guilty of protecting _my_ home." Garrett snorted, not taking his eyes off Meredith for even a second. "Please, don't make me laugh."

Cullen's words had ended the silence though, and Meredith was quick to continue. "You think you can do this? You think you can defeat the righteous?"

"I have crossbows that say..." Garrett nodded to his men at the balcony, and all turned their quarrels at the Knight-Commander, though some with eyes wide with fright. "...I can. So do as I say, and leave my estate." 

"And when I do..." Meredith took a step forward, posture tense, unafraid, enraged even as her words were cold as ice. "...I'll return with such a force of templars, the likes of which you've never seen."

Garrett's lips twitched, though Varric was hesitant to call it a smile. "And if you do that, I'll unleash _my_ magic upon you, the likes of which _you've_ never seen."

At Meredith's back, Carver tilted his head to the side, his angry look mixing with one of confusion. Cullen was even scratching his head at it.

Meredith, however, only glared back, her voice a low growl. "You admit to being an apostate now...?"

"Maker, you're dense..." Garrett's sigh was also a growl, one of barely restrained anger. "My magic, Commander, is quite _mundane_..."

_Maker_..._this is_ _insane_.

Varric, feeling like he was seeing a historic moment, watched Garrett turn and slowly walk down the stairs towards the main floor. "If but one noble, or person under my protection, is _touched_ by you or your henchmen...then all nobles will leave the city." Meredith frowned. "You're confused? Think this not a threat? Let me rephrase it then. I'll leave you not poor, but _destitute_, your taxes and tolls from traders coming to nothing. I'll leave you in a city rampant with crime, the guard _gone_. I'll leave you _starving_, all food gone from the markets. I'll leave you ankle deep in _shit_, the maintenance of the streets _gone_."

Meredith frowned at the man, the cogs in her mind moving slower than his, but with a terrifying finality to them.

While he was moving down, Garrett's voice, still a low growl, droned on. "I'll leave you losing templars every day, first some being picked off by criminals whenever they enter a dark alley. Then, to citizen's demanding first a job, then _food_...I'll leave you _under siege_ by a nameless horde." He shook his head, still moving down like he had all the time in the world. "Then, I'll leave you _alone_. As all things run out, as the city crumples, the hordes will leave, as will your _templars and mages_, driven away by the need to eat and to live in a _society_...leaving _you_."

Meredith's eyes were narrow slits, as were Garrett's as he reached the main floor, stepping close to her without a hint of hesitation.

So close they were nearly touching, the two glared at one another as Garrett continued. "_Alone_, in a _husk_ of a city, having failed at _everything_ you had sworn to do."

One would have heard a pin drop after the man's words.

Somehow, Garrett managed to move even closer, voice cold. "Get. Out."

Meredith, however, stood firm, eyes as cold as Garrett's voice, taking the measure of the man.

He didn't look away.

Varric, swallowing, found himself watching for a sign of the woman drawing a dagger or for someone near her to try something.

Yet nothing happened.

With a grunt, the cogs in Meredith's mind stopped, making her press her lips together in a thin line, eyes flashing with something. Not quite rage, nor hatred, but something even more dangerous.

She didn't say anything.

Instead she turned on her heel and marched towards the exit as if it had been her intention all along, her more hesitant templars following.

Cullen was among the last to leave, his gaze sweeping over Garrett and his many soldiers, not in fear any more, but in worry. He threw Garrett a last look, one trying to share some of that worry, but the man was only looking back with a grim look on his face, arms crossed over his chest.

Then, only Carver remained.

He was glaring at Garrett, a scathing look full of hate and disgust that Varric had a hard time coming to terms with, considering the two men's kinship._ Even I and my brother were better than these two_...

Yet despite seeing such a spiteful look, Garrett remained stoic, a calm seemingly having befallen him, making him meet his brother's every silent accusation and scorn with emptiness.

Finally, after a long moment of simply staring, Carver spoke, tone bereft of all the rage in his eyes, of all emotions, it was a statement of fact.

"You're now without a family."

With that, Carver too turned and marched away, not looking back.

Behind him, Garrett lowered his head, his defiant posture deflating like a sack.

Surrounded by his troops, the man looked very alone.

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for all the thrashings._


	75. Chapter 75

Garrett felt tired.

Not just the tiredness from having spent three hours with a horde of upset nobles, or from the growing hostility to Meredith and all of her kin, or even from the still fresh grief of his mother's death.

It was more than that, a lingering exhaustion settling in his very bones.

As he stepped through the door to his home, he looked about, yet wasn't surprised to find the only elf to greet him to be Fenn. "Good day, Serah, your cloak?"

"Of course, thank you." Garrett nodded, handing the garment over even as he sighed, still looking for any sign of her, knowing it wouldn't come.

He knew she hadn't left the estate, to go to her place in the Alienage or otherwise, for he had her _watched_. The guilt of that was like a weight around his neck. _What else can I do_? It wasn't surprising that she hadn't come to greet him though, their marriage was in some sort of twilight, the two moving within the estate and around one another like ghosts, not really acknowledging one another.

_Is it my fault_? _Was I too harsh to ask those questions_?_ Was I simply wrong_?

The questions gnawed on Garrett, but there was little to do about it, the words had been spoken. As to the answer...he doubted even Merrill knew. _Mother_..._whether she had a part in it or not_..._this was all my fault, I'm sorry_. Dhavine's promise hung in the air around him, promising more pain and despair, making him wonder if he really _wanted_ to make amends with Merrill. _Damned if I do, damned if I don't_..._and what of the others_? _Should I just_..._cut myself off from them, to be on the safe side_...?

The thought made the world seem darker and his shoulders heavier.

_At least the talk with the nobles was fruitful_.

Meredith had been a fool, or rather, had acted like a templar rather than a politician...something Garrett should have expected, yet hadn't, having expected something worse.

Garrett _had_, after all, killed a fellow noble in his own home, making the others nervous about him. Had Meredith understood anything outside her world of magic and templars, she would have seen the opportunity to split Garrett from his power-base.

Instead of acting on this though, she'd been _reactive_, and to the worst possible thing, his threat of taking all the money out of the city. So she had raised the taxes – ironically so, since she claimed not to be the government – and the tolls, no doubt trying to gain as much funds as possible and save them for the possibility of Garrett enacting his threat.

_Not that I would, this is __my__ city_.

It was a burdensome tax though, and Garrett had been almost as grumpy about it as the other nobles he'd been in a meeting with. But it _had_ driven them closer to him, their fear overruled by their acknowledgment that he was the figurehead to rally around when faced with the threat of Meredith and her draconian ruling.

So, given how tax was calculated by how much was in the treasury, the solution had been simple, at least Garrett had thought so. Invest the money, farmlands, while worth a lot, weren't made of gold, nor was hiring more soldiers and guards...those things weren't taxed, after all.

_As long as she doesn't figure out to make the tax income-based_...

Garrett nearly snorted at the thought, Meredith was too straight-forward to figure out the inner workings of economy.

_I'll out-manouvre her, I know it_.

"Serah?"

Blinking, Garrett looked up from his thoughts, finding Fenn standing close, the cloak already removed, the elf's eyes concerned. "I'm sorry, Fenn, what?"

The concern didn't fade from Fenn's eyes, though his unsure smile was kind. "I said you have _guests_, Serah, _important_ ones."

Garrett blinked, then frowned. _I do_? _I don't recall inviting anyone_? _I just met all the nobles so it can't be them. But who_...?

Noticing his look, the elf grimaced. "Anders is one of them, he claimed you'd want to speak to him and his companion...the First Enchanter." _Ohhh_..._shit_. Fenn shrugged. "Considering our last guests and how that panned out, Bastile allowed them to be let in."

_Bastile_..._he's made it clear he follows my orders, but he's not comfortable with this whole struggle with the Templars, I know that_. Curious, Garrett eyed Fenn. "And what's your opinion on all of this then, Fenn?"

The servant blinked, apparently surprised to have been asked, though he quickly gathered his wits. "I serve you, Serah, I believe you'll make the right decisions that'll set this city right."

Garrett found a sad smile on his lips._ So much faith in me_..._when did I earn that_? "Even with the Templars? You think I made the right decision there? To throw them out?"

Fenn looked away at that, eyes narrowing. "They hurt Orana."

_Oh_.

Then Fenn looked back up at his liege with a small blush on his cheeks, taking a deep breath. "They're in your office, Serah."

Garrett nodded, clapping the elf's shoulder. "Okay, thank you."

With that, he began to head for his office, looking left and right as he went.

He saw guards saluting, looking proud. Servants smiling in what seemed like gratitude. The memory of the templar intrusion was still fresh in everyone's mind, and there was an air of relief in the halls of the estate.

Yet there was no Leandra to be seen, save yet another vase atop a table.

No Bodahn or Sandal.

No Merrill either.

The halls seemed, despite the people there, empty.

_I think too much_. Grunting, Garrett reached his office and shouldered his way inside.

Within, Anders and Orsino sat before Garrett's desk, each holding a glass of wine some servant no doubt had brought them._ Not rifled through my papers, have you_? A glance at the corner revealed Maric though, the dog giving him a sympathetic look before turning his wary gaze back to the two mages. _Guess not,_ _good dog, I've seen too little of you as of late, too much work and_..._and things_. Sighing, Garrett pushed down on the grief welling from his chest, keeping it contained as he grimly met the gazes of the two mages turning their heads to look at him, his tone curt and calm. "Gentlemen. Why the honour of your visit?"

Walking around the chairs and his desk dominating the office, Garrett eyed the two men with wariness. Anders' looked his usual brooding self, his black cloak and the pale and cracked skin beneath making him look part-corpse if not for the bright blue eyes. Orsino on the other hand wore also a dark robe, but of far finer make and with crimson details, his finely chiseled face one of concern and curiousity. There was also something else in the elf's eyes, something Garrett didn't like.

"And where, pray tell, are your guards, First Enchanter? I take it Meredith hasn't deigned to let you go unattended?" Moving to his side of the desk, Garrett remained standing in front of his chair, hands on the smooth wood before him, gaze resting on the First Encanter, arching an eyebrow as the elf shifted in his seat under the scrutiny. "Should I expect another visit from Meredith, First Enchanter? It's good form of a guest to warn the host of an impending assault."

Anders shook his head with a sigh. "You're safe, Garrett, don't be silly."

"Considering my latest exchange with the Knight-Commander and the First Enchanter now sitting in my home, drinking my wine, while his guards are no doubt looking for him, I wouldn't call my concern 'silly'." Garrett scowled back. He turned his head, fixing his gaze on the elf again. "Well? Where are they?"

"They...lost me in the market." Orsino shrugged, looking apologetic. "They'll be looking for me there for some time, I think. For all my debating with Meredith, I'm trusted to be a 'behaving' mage." He looked away with a grimace. "Not sure how that'll turn out after this, but it might be worth it..." Looking back, he sighed, shifting in his seat. "And would you sit down...?"

Garrett remained standing, eyes narrowing at the First Enchanter. _I won't like this_.

Again, Anders sighed, this time with a hint of a growl. "_Please_, sit down?" Shooting the mage a glare, Garrett found the man raising a gloved hand. "I swear, on what honour this decrepit body still holds, this meeting will not come to Meredith's knowledge and won't do anything to harm you."

Garrett scowled back.

Anders raised both hands, eyebrows raised. "Have I ever done anything to make you distrust me?"

Slowly, Garrett sat down. "Well there was that time you went crazy in the Chantry..."

"And since then I've been nothing but a good help and ally..." Anders snorted back, then shrugged, a knowing smirk on his cracked lips. "...if an annoying one, I know."

Garrett, somehow, managed a pale smile.

It died quickly though, replaced by a frown as he noted Orsino's eagerness to speak. _Might as well, he has templars to go back to_.

"I take it, then, that this is another plead for me to act against Meredith in defense of the mages? Or am I mistaken?"

Anders and Orsino exchanged a glance, making Garrett sigh. The later opened his mouth, but Anders was quicker. "I brought Orsino here to _personally_ tell you of what's happening in the tower, of what things the templars are up to."

_Maker, preserve me_... Garrett shrugged, grunting. "Given your effort, Orsino, I'm willing to listen." He shook his head. "Don't expect miracles though." With that, he let his fingers intertwine and rested his hands on the table, gaze fixed on the First Enchanter.

The elf pulled back, looking surprised at Garrett's words for some reason. But then he smiled, taking a deep breath. "I...thank you." A nervous chuckled. "Well...where to begin?"

"How about from the top to the tower to the bottom?" Anders suggested, a brooding growl in his voice, eyes distant as he gripped the armrests of his seat tighter.

"Very well." Orsino took another deep breath, gaze down to collect his thoughts. When he looked up, it was with dull eyes. "Top of the tower is reserved for templars with spyglasses. They make sure none of those patrolling the outer wall is slacking and that no mage within the tower is trying to escape where the patrolling templars don't see. Given that the courtyard outside the tower is empty and a forbidden area for any mage without an escort coming or going, this is extremely easy." Another deep breath. "Next is my chamber, followed by the senior enchanters living a floor below. All of us have large private chambers, our needs served by tranquils..." There was a grimace there. "...it's eerie being tended upon by an empty vessel of someone that used to laugh in your classes, by the way. Anyway, we each have four guards posted outside our rooms at all times. Whenever we leave, two accompany us while the other two remain at the door."

Garrett frowned, but didn't interrupt._ I suppose that's_..._reasonable_? _If a little tasteless with the number of guards at the door and the tranquil_...

"Next is the library, for silent contemplation and reading of Meredith-approved texts, both those pertaining magic and those touching on other subjects." Orsino shrugged. "Lightly patrolled, you can even get five minutes alone in there, if you're not an enchanter like me or my peers...or so they say, think lower-ranked mages now have to be escorted by a templar when getting a book and then being escorted to the general reading-area."

Garrett's frown turned into a scowl._ They're not allowed to read anything but what Meredith deems appropriate_? _That's not the way to respect knowledge_. _Must mean dull reading too_..._probably with too many pictures of saints_.

"After that come the dormitories." Orsino shrugged, then hesitated, noticing Anders giving him a look, making him speak again. "They're a set of large rooms able to house fifty mages in each, separated by gender, of course. Each one has five templars on guard at all times, plus one in the end of each halway outside to discourage any attempts at fraternizing. These are all of course present at night too, midnight visits to the bathroom must have an escort, after all, though they usually only send one templar along then."

_Hasn't it always been like that_...? Given his father's old tales, Garrett shook his head, realising the silliness of his question.

"After a few levels of dormitories, there's the classrooms, each divided by age and skill of the students. The number of templars present differs depending on the level at which the students are. Also, there's a chantry priestess in each classroom to lead the prayers both when starting and ending the class, as well as to give lessons of the Chant of light when she deems it appropriate." Orsino, coughing, took a sip from his glass of wine. "At the centre of this level there's also a block for executions of any mage that might fail at an exercise so badly he's under threat of demonic possession." At the growl of Anders, Orsino raised his voice with a hand held up to ask silence. "It's _not_ used often though! It takes quite a spectacular failure for that to happen."

"No excuse..." Anders grunted, looking away. _Well, if they're about to be possessed_... An image of his mother, smiling as blood ran down her throat, flashed before Garrett's mind, making him recoil. .._might be for the best_.

"Then there's the Chantry, a large chapel, essentially." Orsino sighed. "Fifty priestesses are there, ready to help mages and templars alike with matters of the spirit."

"To ask forgiveness for the sin they were_ born with_, you mean." Anders growled back.

"It's actually quite nice there." Orsino protested with a little smile. "Maybe that's the idea, yes, but...well I like it."

Anders simply snorted, but held his voice, arms crossed over his chest.

"Then there's the factories..."

"Factories?" Garrett echoed, confused.

"Well we call them that." Orsino shrugged. "They're craft halls full of tranquil creating runes of various things to export and sell...it brings quite a lot of money in, or so I hear."

"Well it has to be with so many tranquil at their disposal..." Anders grunted again.

Orsino grimaced, but ignored the man. "Right now many are writing new manuscripts of the Chant of Light though, to be read by the many new mages brought into the tower. Each one needs one, after all."

Anders growled, but didn't speak up this time.

"After that there's the main hall, a very empty place, mainly allowing traffic in and out of the tower, as well as holding a small garrison of templars." Orsino smirked at Garrett. "_Very_ small, actually, Meredith prefers to keep most templars in her new keep, as of late..."

Not liking what the man was insinuating, Garrett scowled back.

Blinking, Orsino looked away. "Below ground there's first a simple storage room, holding food, supplies, that kind of thing." Then, he winced. "Then there's the...sweatshop." Next to him, Anders growled something unintelligible. "The templars call it that. It's...well it's a form of cells, more so than the dormitories. Each mage is locked away into a chamber covered in runes severely punishing any use of magic within...usually with pain."

"_Always_ with pain." Anders corrected, head tilted so far down Garrett couldn't see anything but the man's hood. Though given the way he was holding on to the chair, he was shaking with suppressed rage.

"Within, priestesses come to make them see the errors in whatever they've done and convince them to heed the Chant of Light more properly, or, depending on the mage, a templar comes and does it, though not gently." Wincing, Orsino shrugged. "They don't hit them or anything, but...well there's been cold water dunked over them, denial of food or sleep, enough to convince them that cooperation is the best solution."

"How many, after this 'convincing', have killed themselves?" Anders question was a low mutter, the man not looking up.

"A...few." Orsino admitted, grimacing again.

"A few too many." 

"Well, yes." The elf shrugged, looking pained as he went on, not meeting Garrett's gaze. "Then there's just the storage area that used to hold the phylacteries, they're now at the Templar keep, that now is the place in which they create new tranquil." The elf shrugged. "I'd like not to speak of that place." 

"Why not?" Anders muttered. "Is it the screams? Or the silence afterwards? Is it the knowledge of what they do to people there? Or what they use? Is it the thought of every tranquil servant you have having had their last moments of humanity being one of agony unlike any a person could ever feel-"

"I _said_, I'd like not to speak of it." Orsino interrupted with surprising firmness, shooting the other mage a glare. When he looked back to Garrett though, his eyes were soft and pleading. "I...understand that you're already in an awkward position, Champion, but the situation...it's...getting out of hand. A quarter of all the mages in the tower are down in the sweatshop. Those that come back aren't...they're not the same. Either they're scared of their own shadows, completely submissive or spiteful..."

Garrett didn't answer at first, his mind working.

Slowly, Anders raised his head to look at the noble, eyes intense.

"I understand where you're coming from, Orsino, and I sympathise, _greatly_ in fact."

"But?" Anders growled, pale blue eyes flashing.

"But I do not have the way or means to force Meredith to change at this moment." Garrett replied, giving a calm look back. "You might say that the enemy of my enemy is my friend, Anders, but I'm _not_ Meredith's enemy, at least not in the way you might desire." The mage remained silent, fortunately. "My struggle with her is not about mages and templars, but with how this city is run and with the hundreds of thousands of people within that still suffer from the Qunari battle. We might have rebuilt most of the buildings, but there's still tens of thousands of people out there on the brink of starvation, who live day by day with no work or prospects, people that might turn this city into chaos if we let it go that far. That's _more_ important, I'm sad to say, than a few hundred mages and their plight." Garrett raised a hand, stopping Anders' protest. "Which is not to say that their plight is in _any_ way acceptable. Just that I have to pick my battles at this moment."

"Many mages have family in the city, surely, they would support you in anything if you'd just take the mages side...?" Orsino asked, looking sad.

"And many more would take issue with me doing so, the fear of magic runs deep in most, First Enchanter." Garrett countered. "Of course, if I only acted to please public opinon, I wouldn't have done half the things I have..." He snorted, then offered a pale smile. "I can only promise you this, _when_ I've brought Meredith to the negotiation table regarding the situation in Kirkwall, I _will_ bring up the mages and how they are treated, because I do believe that this is a cause of disruption of the city. In fact, I'll demand that you are there to attend the meeting with her, so you can too partake in the discussion and speak for your people."

"That's...most gracious of you." Orsino offered a hesitant smile, looked away...and smiled a little wider, a light of hope in his eyes.

Anders, however, growled and shook his head. "That's it, a _promise_? The Mage and Templar conflict in this city is not something that will-"

"_Don't_ call it that." Garrett raised a finger at Anders, scowling at the man. "No matter how much you or Meredith would like it to be, this is _not_ a struggle between the templars and the mages, but one between Meredith and her spiritual law and the secular law headed by _me_. Yes, there's a real struggle between mages and templars too, but that's a _separate_ issue and I will _not_ have either you or her muddle the issue." He leant back, hands sliding off the desk. "So yes, you get a promise, that once I've brought Meredith to a debate, I'll open the floor for a _second_ debate, and that's what you're going to _get_."

Anders glare back was heated, full of frustration and grief.

Softening his tone, Garrett offered a shrug. "I've always said I'm a reformist, not a revolutionary, sorry, but you can't change that."

Without a word, Anders rose to his feet, then left.

Watching the door close, Garrett grimaced. "That happens all too often with him...he'll calm down and see my reasoning as true later."

"Well, for what it's worth, _I'm_ pleased." Orsino also got to his feet, offering a thin and frail hand that Garrett took, watching the elf smile. "Even a mage can be a reformist about the circle, Champion."Another smile, and the elf begun to head for the door. "Thank you."

Sitting back, thankful for the sudden silence as the door clicked shut, Garrett reached out along his side, pleased to find Maric moving to press his head against the hand.

Scratching the dog behind the ear, Garrett blinked, surprised at how relaxed he suddenly was.

A moment later, he was asleep.

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson, for the plans and schemes. _


	76. Chapter 76

"He's against us, whatever magic touched him has made him an enemy...and a dangerous one."

Meredith was sitting behind her desk, the high backrest of her chair covered in silvery runes of protection against mind-altering magic. It was likely not required, no mage was allowed within a hundred feet of the walls of the new templar keep, but Meredith was not one to take chances, understandably so, given her position.

She was one with a heavy burden on her shoulders, and worthy of following, far more so than Hawke had been.

Standing tall, at attention, Carver felt every inch the knight and warrior he'd always wanted to be. Even better, he was a _Templar_ knight, a _holy_ warrior, and one of _rank_ to boot. He owed all of that, _everything_, to the woman before him. One who _rewarded_ men who deserved it and didn't just throw them morsels while speaking of nothing but how they did their duty and nothing more.

Still, it was hard to reply to Meredith's words, to see her resting her elbows on the table with her chin resting on her cupped hands, just like Hawke would have done. "He's...it's difficult for me to imagine him being under control by _anything_, Commander, I must admit." He shifted where he stood. _Mother wouldn't like me saying this_. He grimaced, looking away. _Mother's __dead_. "But it's a possibility, we can't expect him to have done as well as a proper templar in resisting the magic in the De Launcet mansion."_I__ would have saved her_.

"Indeed, it's impossible to know just what transpired beyond those doors, but it's suspicious that Hawke went in alone. Yet now he's actively threatening us, going against us...the Templars, those dedicated to the eradication of demons and the containment of magic, what other proof is needed that he's under the influence of some demon?" Meredith growled, her lips a thin line at the memory of how Garrett had forced them out of his home, despite their just cause for being there._ When did he start flaunting the law without shame_? _I thought he hated working for Athenril_..._or was it too small a business for him_?

"Commander, if I may?" Cullen looked worried where he stood, but Carver expected the man was worried about other things than the rampant corruption among the citizens of Kirkwall. _What's that guy's problem, anyway_? "We cannot simply assume that Hawke's hostility comes out of demonic corruption. By such reasoning, anyone that disagrees with us in any matter is a suspect of corruption." The man shook his head. "In fact, he's been very consistent in his demands with us, has he not? He wants a secular rule of Kirkwall..." He raised a hand, stopping Meredith's oncoming protest. "...and yes, I know, we do not rule Kirkwall, we've simply stopped the election of a Viscount, but from _his_ point of view we must seem to be acting like rulers of the state." He let his hand drop, a hint of pleading in his voice. "I'd suggest we invite him for a civilised discussion about the future of Kirkwall, Commander. I doubt he'd desire much more than a certain autonomy of the state, we give him that, and he'll no longer be a problem."

"Give the wolf a morsel and hope he goes away?" Carver arched an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. "That doesn't sound wise."

"That's your _brother_ you're speaking about, you know." Cullen pointed out, giving Carver a disturbed look.

Carver shot back a cold look. "No, _you_ are my brother." _Damn, that felt good to say, not like there's another family out there anymore, just some fool on a high horse, the bodies of those we once cared about around him_. Looking back to Meredith, Carver straightened. "I say we take him in for questioning, he's not untouchable." _Wonder if that would give Merrill time to get away_..._argh, why can't I get her out of my mind_!? Carver held back a grimace of annoyance. _Bloody elf, it's like she's cast a spell on me_... The thought made him shiver.

Meredith shook her head, looking tired. "I cannot risk it. If I do bring him in on charges of demonic corruption the other nobles might stop resisting us...or they might just do what the man said they would, crippling our ability to combat the _very_ real and _much_ more important struggle with the apostates running rampant through the streets."

"So we give him what he wants, securing our ability to keep hunting the apostates." Cullen said with a stoic look on his face. "We don't need to fight a war on two fronts, Commander."

Meredith scowled back. "What we need or not is not the _issue_, Captain, it's whether he's an enemy or not. Templars don't pick their battles, they _fight_ them, _wherever_ they appear." Her scowl faded. "But how? We raised the taxes, yet now we get less money, as if the nobles have none left...he's already making it harder for us to hunt down the apostates."

"They're hiding the money?" Carver asked, eyes narrowed. I thought paying taxes was a law..." _Maker, what's Garrett doing_!?

"To be fair, we shouldn't be able to raise taxes if we're not the rulers..." Cullen pointed out with a grunt. Noting Meredith's and Carver's annoyed look, he shrugged. "...call me the demon's advocate, but I'm trying to show how _he_ might be viewing it."

"You're assuming he's a master of his own actions and acting as a _person_." Meredith frowned.

"And _you_ assume he's acting on behalf of a demon." Cullen countered, narrowing his eyes at his Commander.

_Here we go, always with the arguing_... Carver rolled his eyes. "He's _acting against us_."

"Which doesn't automatically make him _possessed by demons_ or similar." Cullen snapped back, then turned his eyes to Meredith, shaking his head. "He might just dislike us, Commander."

Meredith scowled back, but the look faltered, turning unsure as she turned her gaze to the table. "Doubt is a weakness and a danger...yet I am not sure. I do not know how to act here, what is _right_ to do."

Surprised by the woman's words, Carver turned his gaze to Cullen, finding the man looking equally confused. Carver was the first to look back to Meredith. "Commander, I think-"

"No, sorry, captains, but we're done here for today." Meredith didn't look up, frowning at the desk before her. "I'll think on what you've said and make a decision later."

Carver and Cullen once more exchanged a look, neither sure what to make of their leader.

"Leave me."

Even as they left, the woman didn't look up, her eyes intense as she gazed into her desk.

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_Where is it_...?

Merrill felt guilty, a strange vice around her heart, making her breaths short and shallow.

_I know he's hiding it somewhere around here, he always gets tense when I'm near this shelf_...

It was wrong of her, she knew it, to stand in the hallway of their home, looking through what was nothing but another bookshelf, in search of something she wasn't supposed to have.

_I __should__, damn it, it's __my people's_..._and_ _I_..._they_..._need_ _it_.

It had also been wrong of her to search through his office, and the estate's treasury.

_It's my stuff too, I'm his wife, I have a right to everything in our home as much as he does_.

The betrayal of trust was stinging her though, _her_ betraying _his_ trust.

_Bah, like he trusts me anymore, not after what he said about Leandra_. _I_..._how could he say that_!? _It's just so mean and untrue and cruel_! _I didn't_..._she was there, speaking to me the entire time_..._I didn't give her any blood or anything, I __couldn't__ have been the cause for her doing what she did_.

_Two wrongs doesn't make a right though_.

Merrill's brow furrowed, her hands slipping in and out between books, seeking, searching. _This isn't wrong, it's __right_. _Not like Garrett cares_.

He'd been so distant as of late. Off speaking with his nobles, with local merchants, with workers, with priests, with crime-lords...busy with his scheming and his politics. Merrill loved him, but by Anduril, it was becoming more and more difficult, the less he was around. _Does he even love me back now_? The words had been painful, and the lingering silence after it, even worse. They were shadows, flickering past one another whenever they met, which thankfully was rare due to the man's schedule.

Slowing in her search, Merrill took a deep breath, forehead coming to rest on the bookshelf, he shoulders shaking._ Dhavine hurt him, not I, I'm innocent_..._b_-_but_..._by the gods, I'm afraid_. _She's smiling whenever we meet and_..._I'm afraid_. The smile, demonic, cruel yet beautiful, terrifying yet alluring, had begun haunting Merrill's dreams. _She's a monster but_..._I need her, I __have__ to use her, I have to fix the Eluvian_. _I'll use her, then_..._we'll part ways, yes, she gets her freedom, I my Eluvian_.

_Garrett would hate giving her anything though_... Merrill sighed, wearily raising her head, hands slowly beginning their search again. I can't think about that, the fate of my people is more important than what my estranged husband thinks.

_Where is it_!?

Growling, Merrill gripped a book and threw it across the hall, then put a hand over her mouth in shock. _I_..._shouldn't have done that, the book didn't deserve it_. A deep breath and she let go of her mouth. _Why are my hands shaking_...? _Mythal, I'm a wreck_..._too much stress over this_. _I need_..._I need to get it done, yes, done and over with, everything will be fine after that_.

_Dhavine's right, just a little magic, and it'll be done, all I need is the Arulin'Holm_. _It'll work, the clan will take me back, the Dalish will prosper as we're once more connected and we'll find a land to settle in_...

_By Falon'Din, it's almost too good to be true_. Merill smiled at the thought, her hands turning more frantic in their search. _It __has__ to be here_!

Then, she felt it.

Grinning, Merrill pushed her hand further between two books. The chisel with a handle of smoothly curved wood, the blade she knew was covered in dark veins pulsing with old Dalish magic...a tool that in itself was a work of art, another thing lost in the passage of time since the loss of the Dales.

Drawing a shuddering breath of relief, Merrill found her knees grow weak as she gripped it. _This is_..._holding a piece of our history, yet at the same time, our future, with this, I'll_..._Mythal, the world will become good and right again_. She grinned, again resting her forehead on the bookshelf as she just let her hand slide across the handle of the tool, caressing it. _Everything will now be okay_...

"What are you doing?"

Letting go of her precious find, Merrill whirled around, empty hands behind her back. Before her, Garrett stood, the solidly built man looking tired, yet at the same time determined...and a little frightened. Next to him, Maric was standing on all fours, the Mabari's eyes narrowed, nose sniffing in the direction of the elf.

Eyes wide, Merrill found herself squeaking. "Nothing..."

Maric snorted. Garrett, however, remained deathly silent as he stared at Merrill. His eyes were the hard wood of ironbark Merrill had somehow learnt to love. Yet there was a weariness behind them now, a weariness and a growing pain as he watched her, still as a statue.

Swallowing, Merrill shifted where she stood. "Wh-what? I...have something on my no-nose...?" She managed a smile, only to find it tremble and falter.

"You found it." It wasn't a question.

Merrill managed to raise her chin, taking quick breaths to steady herself from the hurt look boring into her from across the hall. _It's mine, my people's_..._I won't be ashamed_.

Before her, the pain grew deeper. "You've looked for it for some time, then."

Merrill looked away. _Damn it_.

"For how long?"

_I_..._don't answer that, Merrill_.

"After we got married?" Garrett drew an audible breath. "O-or before that, even?"

"I...didn't...I wasn't meaning to..." Merrill's protests died before they were even voiced, what _could_ she say? _It's __mine__, I need it, I __must__ have it, I must __use__ it_.. She shook the thought aside. "It doesn't matter, why do you care? We hardly see each other anymore..."

"Don't make this about us." Garrett took a step forward, though his command lacked force, the hurt in his voice tugging at Merrill's resolve. "This is about you and that mirror...are you so set on fixing it? You were willing to forsake your clan for it, and now...me?"

Merrill looked up in shock. "You? I'm not going to-"

"What? You think I'm okay with you using the Arulin'Holm to fix the mirror and free Dhavine? A demon and the killer of my mother?" Garrett asked, though there was no anger in his voice, only a weariness and a lot of pain. Before her, the man was blinking, eyelids batting away a few reluctant tears."You know I'm not, yet here you are, about to do just that."

"I...have to do what's right for my people." Merrill croaked, backing into the bookshelf.

Before her, Garrett shook his head, still approaching as Maric sat down on his haunches, growling lowly in a way he'd never done before at Merrill. "Are you? Really? What does it do? Specifically? Do you even know?" Merrill swallowed, the man coming closer, unwanted for once. "_How_ will it save your people?" His steps were slow, weary, yet unstoppable. "You don't know, do you? Yet you keep striving for it, reaching for it...do you know why you're so set on it by now?" Garrett shook his head, eyes now nothing but sad. "I think I do..."

"St-stop it, yo-you're scaring me..." Merrill looked away.

Only to have a finger cup her chin, forcing her to look the man in the eyes. His voice was as sad as his eyes, a low murmur. "Good, because you _terrify_ me."

Shuddering, Merrill tried to look away, but couldn't. Instead, she sighed in Garrett's grip. "I...I know you don't understand or approve, but...Dhavine...she's just a creature of the Fade, an animal, she's just...acting to her nature. But she _can_ help me, make everything right again..."

"Acting to her nature?" Garrett echoed, the grip on Merrill's chin tightening. "Merrill, this _creature_ sadistically murdered my mother, she butchered an _entire family_, just for the sake of revenge for the Deep Roads. She even swore that no matter what, she'd find a way to hurt everyone I've ever cared about, that none would be safe under my protection." Merrill gasped. _I_..._you never told me_. "I ask you...is that the actions of some simple animal?"

_I mu__st have the Arulin'Holm though, it's not __about__ Dhavine_... "Sh-she'll go back to the Fade properly when the Eluvian is fixed, then she'll never bother us again."

Garrett was shaking his head, a sad smile on his lips. "She told you that? Or do you know that yourself? Are you _sure_?"

_Well_..._no_..._but you can never be sure of anything in the world, really_..._right_? _Was__ it Dhavine telling me anyway_? _I don't remember_..._not important though, I must save my people_. "L-love, wh-why won't you tr-trust me...? D-do you think so little of me?"

"No." Garrett smiled. "I think so little of Dhavine." He grimaced, his free hand moving up to grip the back of Merrill's neck, eyes pleading. "Please...just...let it go, I _beg_ you."

_I can't_.

_Why not_?

_I_..._can't_.

Merrill bit her lip.

She bit it _hard_.

"I...I'm sorry." She finally managed, shoulders slumping, hands trembling. _Mythal, what am I doing_? "I shouldn't have...I...I'm so sorry."

Before her, Garrett smiled, the pain still in his eyes, but now lit with a light of hope and, maybe, even some happiness. "O-okay...yes, that's good, thank you, Merrill. I know it's...hard...but together, we can get through this."

"Y-yes." Merrill nodded, her heart hammering in her chest, terror gripping her tight. "I...I'm so sorry."

_Demons, heed me_...

"Come here." Garrett's arms were around her, so hard and tight that Merrill found herself gasping for air even as the warmth of the man made her sigh in relief. His whisper in her ear was so low, she barely heard it. "Maker, I've missed you..."

_I offer this_...

"I-I'm sorry, so sorry..." The blood welled from her lip.

"I'm sorry too...I should have been more...everything." Garrett pulled back, hands on Merrill's shoulders as he offered a tearful smile. "I...we'll work this out, okay?"

Merrill's eyes prickled, a sniffle escaping her. "I'm so sorry...!"

Smiling, tender, Garrett pulled her closer, lips brushing hers.

_Make him freeze_...

Silence.

Then, looking away, Merrill took a step to the side, sniffling. "I...it'll be okay, I promise. I...I'm so sorry."

Looking up, she found Garrett standing still as a statue, hands still reaching out to hold the shoulders that were no longer there, face smiling ever so slightly, all still as stone.

Yet his eyes moved, glittering with horror and hurt as they moved to follow her movements. "D-don't be mad..." Merrill swallowed, her whole body shaking. "It'll be okay." A growl, and she tore her eyes away from her frozen husband, finding Maric on all fours, teeth bared in a snarl. _No_..._no_ _please_ _don't_. Merrill raised a hand. "M-Maric...st-stay where you a-are...I...I don't want to h-hurt you." Next to her, Garrett's eyes stared in horror.

A bark, and Maric leapt for her, all affection gone, replaced by the fury of a Mabari defending his master.

Then he was sailing through the air, whining in pain as a thin vine of crimson blood wrapped itself around the dog's throat, harshly pulling him into a wall and pinning him there. _D-don't hurt him too much, demons_..._my blood commands it_. The dog, though obviously in pain, scrapped his feet against the floor, glaring at Merrill with a beastly anger. _I'm sorry, I'll_..._make it up to you when I get back_.

Turning away from the dog, Merrill hurriedly moved to the bookshelf, pulling the Arulin'Holm free and gently holding it in both hands. It was as beautiful as she'd remembered it, if not more so, the dark veins in the silvery blade seemingly moving before her eyes, calling to her to work with it, to _use_ it. _Together, we'll change the world, make everything good again_...

Guilty, she looked up, finding Garrett still staring at her, his body still as a statue's, yet his eyes following her, horrified, _hurt_.

There were tears rolling down his cheeks.

Wincing, Merrill forced a smile. "It'll...it'll be okay, you'll see...I promise." Moving forward, she kissed the man's cheek, the taste of his tears on it bitter.

She lingered, staring at the man, watching him stare back, terrified for her.

It hurt.

Blinking aside a tear, she turned and began to run.

_I promise_.

8

8

8

_Thanks to Abydos Jackson, for the miracles._


	77. Chapter 77

Like an arrow, they hurtled down the road.

When the paralysis had worn out, Garrett had sent out his summons, fearing every second lost, yet fearing more to go alone, or with his soldiers, that while good, had never encountered demons before.

That half hour of waiting had been one of the most excruciating in his life.

Despite the horrifying news, one that would have made many take a moment to think, to hesitate, they had come to his aid, swelling the shattered pieces of his heart with gratitude.

Aveline, despite the burden of work on her shoulders, despite having already worked thirteen hours straight, had dropped everything for him, and for _her_.

Varric had not said a word. He'd arrived with a loaded Bianca and a grim look on his face, ready to save her from herself.

Isabela, despite her earlier history, had been the first to arrive and had nearly driven Garrett mad with her demands to head out right away and have the others catch up.

Anders had not been far behind, the mage full of sympathy, knowing all too well the dangers of demonic influence...yet speaking of hope in the same breath.

_Hope_...

Garrett spurred his horse, making it push even harder.

The only one who hadn't come was Fenris, and Garrett had not been surprised, though the disloyalty stung like a needle in a heart already broken by _her_ betrayal.

_How can I have hope_?

He knew Dhavine, had _felt_ her power...and if Merrill was under her spell...what could he do?

And if she _wasn't_ under Dhavine's spell...then she had done what she'd done under her own volition.

Despair was clinging to him, like a spider within his chest, ripping and tearing, making it hard to breathe.

Garrett rode faster, looking neither left nor right, eyes on the road, willing it to pass quicker.

Next to his horse, Maric was doing the impossible, keeping pace with a horse in full pace. The dog was panting heavily, yet he too was staring straight ahead, eyes on their target.

Ahead, Sundermount loomed, dark and brooding under a cloudy sky.

The road was turning more narrow and rocky, unused by anything but a few wanderers.

Garrett didn't slow.

Neither did the others.

The road turned rocky, steep, the mountain seemingly becoming taller the closer the group came to their destination.

Garrett didn't know why Merrill had to be in Sundermount to complete the mirror, neither did he care, his mind _fixed_ on catching up to her.

_And then what_?

Garrett had no answer to that.

The woman had betrayed him, used him, maybe even never loved him in the first place.

He wanted to kill her.

He wanted to save her.

_I'm insane_, _she's driven me insane_.

Then they reached the end of the road, the rocks above looming tall, but not concealing the entrance into a cave ahead. Behind him, his group was dismounting in a hurry, Aveline's voice thick with worry. "Maybe we should have a strategy as how to...Garrett?"

Haveing dismounted before his horse had even come to a stop, Garrett was climbing towards the entrance, scrambling up, sword drawn and breathing fast, Maric at his heels. _Maker, let me be in time, for once_...

"Or we could do _that_." Isabela muttered, the Rivaini grunting as Garrett heard the woman's feet patter against stone, hurrying after him.

A moment of silence, and then the others were hurrying after the noble, Aveline growling a curse under her breath.

Ahead, there was a sudden movement, making Garrett straighten and rush forward, sword drawn and shield up. Instead of some demon or monster charging out though, there was a clatter as half a dozen elves in dirty clothes rushed out, eyes wide and skin shiny with sweat. One of them, looking back, was whimpering. "Maker, that silver wasn't worth it! She's crazy!" Turning his head at the sound of the others screaming in terror, his eyes widened in horror at the sight of the armoured human rushing up at him. "Agh! Templar!? Please, I don't want to-"

Garrett crashed into the elf, swatting him aside like he would a fly, eyes fixed on the darkness ahead.

"Maker, please don't-" The elf was trying to babble at the others coming up the mountain.

Aveline's tone was curt. "Shut up and get to safety."

Then the rest of the group was rushing in after Garrett.

He barely noticed them though, gaze fixed ahead, boots crashing against the uneven footing, nearly felling him with every other step. Yet he refused to slow, to _think_.

_Just do it, stop it_.

_I can't bear Dhavine doing this to me again_.

_Maker, I'm too late, aren't I_?

_She's going to_...

_No, don't think_.

Blinking, suddenly assailed by light, Garrett stumbled into a chamber.

Despite being within a cave, the walls were smooth and bricked, like something one would find in the Deep Roads. At the top of a surprisingly high roof, a green fire blazed, seemingly without fuel, casting a pale light across the chamber. The walls, though smooth, had several alcoves dug into them, a stone chest with carved features of some long-dead elf in each. The floor, though cracked in places, was also smooth under Garrett's feet, intricate carvings of vines and flowers covering it, though nearly hidden under a thick layer of dust only recently disturbed.

At the far end, there were no alcoves, only a wall slowly curving inwards to the top...and a few steps going up to a pedestal.

Atop the pedestal, the Eluvian stood, a shimmering mirror, framed by green and gold scales, like a snake had wrapped itself around it. The silver surface was glowing, a throbbing light, like a heartbeat, deep within it.

Next to it, Merrill stood, Arulin'Holm in hand, pressing it into the side of the mirror, eyes bright with a smile.

Garrett took three quick strides into the room, eyes wide with horror. "Merrill,don't!"

Frightened, the elf whipped her head around, looking at Garrett with wide and guilty eyes.

Standing frozen, afraid to even breathe, Garrett met her gaze with his own, pleading for her to stop.

Behind him, the others were equally silent, all but Isabela. "Kitten...remember when I nearly got Kirkwall destroyed?" A pause, hesitant. "You might be about to do the same at this moment..."

Merrill stared at Garrett, then turned her gaze, looking at the others, eyes full of fear and hesitation, _terrified_...of herself.

She didn't say anything, but Garrett saw it plain as day. A small gasp for air, a raise of her chin...

"NO!" He took a step forward.

Eyes turning defiant, Merrill turned back to her work, pressing the Arulin'Holm against the mirror with a pulse of purple energy.

There was no sound.

Only a wave of energy, like a gust of wind, pushing Garrett back and forcing him to turn his head aside as Anders shouted a curse.

When Garrett looked back, the Eluvian was alive.

A wide smile on her lips, eyes ablaze with hope, Merrill was stepping back from the mirror as the surface throbbed and twisted like a living thing, a purple light growing within its centre.

_Maker, no_...

The purple light was growing, turning solid, becoming an all too familiar shape. Seductively swaying with each step, tail swinging in dizzying patterns, lips bared in a cruel smile, exposing lines of tiny but pointed teeth.

With a sigh of contentment, Dhavine stepped out of the mirror.

Her voice was but a purr, purple eyes on Garrett. "Muuuuuch better." 

Silence.

Then Aveline took a step forward, stepping unto Garrett's left side, shield raised, visor clicking into place.

On his right, Isabela was swallowing, yet stepped forward, long daggers spinning in her hands, voice surprisingly firm. "You won't trick us this time, demon."

Behind him, Anders was suddenly aglow with power, a low growl emanating from his chest as Justice awoke with rage.

"Oh I won't trick you, I promise." Dhavine smirked...only for it to die on her lips, turning into an ugly grin. "I'll simply kill you."

With a thunk, the so far silent Varric shot a bolt from Bianca at the demon, only to gasp as the shot stopped half an inch from the demon's left eye.

The demon, eyeing the missile hovering mid-air, chuckled. "How crude." Slowly, the crossbow-bolt turned around...and then hurtled out, past Garrett's face before making Varric gasp in pain. Garrett couldn't turn and see how the dwarf was faring though, his gaze fixed on the demon as she coyly eyed him. "It's good to finally be fully back...that said, I still haven't had my full revenge on you." Turning her head, chuckling, Dhavine's voice was smooth as silk. "Merrill, be a dear and kill them."

_No_...

Merrill turned to face them, the smile gone from her lips. Her eyes, filled with hope just a moment ago, now glowing purple.

Shaking his head, Garrett took a step forward, holding his arms wide. "Merrill, don't..."

_PAIN_!

With a crash, Garrett's back smashed into the wall next to the entrance, his vision a blur of pain and tears, his breastplate smoking and scorched from a lightning-bolt.

Blinking, trying to focus, struggling to rise, Garrett watched the scene of horror before him.

Aveline, shouting in wordless horror, was rushing forward, seemingly not sure what to do once she'd reached the elf.

She never did though, a single flick of a bloodied left hand of the elf sending the guardswoman crashing to the floor as a missile of solid blood smashed into her, sending Aveline's crushed helmet flying off a bloodied head.

Maric, less hesitant, nearly reached the elf though, fangs bared in rage...only to bark in surprise as the ground gave out from underneath him. The vines of the floor, once nothing but carvings, turning into green plants, vines wrapping around the hound's hind legs, pulling him back, then down, seemingly trying to swallow him into a hole of the ground as the whining dog scrambled to pull himself free with his forelegs.

Having hesitated until then, Anders and Isabela finally acted, the mage casting a green-glowing spell of haste on the pirate as she with drawn daggers and wet cheeks rushed at the Dalish with inhuman speed.

The ground under the elf buckled and heaved at the onslaught of the Rivaini, the ground shooting up like a fist, sending the elf flying up into the air, spinning like an acrobat mid-air as a mist of red surrounded her. Isabela, rushing at the summoned pillar of stone before her, placed a boot on it and used it to launch herself up and back, flipping backwards as she followed the elf, eyes wide as she found the Dalish already having landed, the tip of her spear leveled at the oncoming pirate.

In a flash of silver, Isabela's daggers bashed the spear aside, only for her to gasp and stagger as the butt end of the spear whirled with the impact and smashed into the pirate's stomach. Spear still spinning, Merrill danced aside from a desperate thrust with inhuman grace, her weapon knocking a dagger out of Isabela's hand even as the ground once more bucked under the feet of the combatants.

This time, however, there was no great pillar of stone shooting out. Only a thin tapering point of stone.

Isabela cried out in agony, the blade of stone shooting into her shoulder and out the back. Then her scream turned into a gasp as another blade shot out from the ground, spearing her thigh.

Using her spear as pole, Merrill launched herself forward, her right foot smashing into Isabela's face, knocking her off the stone-blades and onto her back, the pirate gasping for air, barely moving as the injuries overcame her.

Not stopping, Merrill deftly landed on her feet, turning the tip of her spear at the pirate and thrusting down.

_No_! Garrett, back on his feet, yet unsure what to do, rushed forward, tackling Merrill and pushing her back into a wall, shield pinning her weapon against the wall even as his body did the same to hers.

Muttering something, Merrill put her free hand on his chest.

Garrett hesitated.

And then he staggered back, vines of thick blood blossoming from where Merrill's hand had been, shooting out across his breastplate, enveloping his torso and making the metal creak with the force of their grip. _Wh_-_what_ _is_ _this_!? Gasping, Garrett fell onto one knee, grip on his weapons failing as his hands moved to grasp at the vines, trying to pull them off, only to have them press in tighter, making black dots begin to dance before his vision.

Above, Merrill loomed closer, purple-glowing eyes narrowing as she raised her spear...

A bolt smashed into her right hand, sending the spear flying out of her hands with a spurt of blood even as the scent of burning flesh filled Garrett's nostrils as a magic fire cast by Anders enveloped his chest, scorching the vines of blood covering it. He moved to rise-

Only for Merrill's foot to smash into the side of his head, sending him rolling aside like he'd just been struck by a giant, rather than a petite little elf. Even as she did so, blood was pouring from Merrill's hands, coiling into long whips of crimson.

The elf bared her teeth, an alien hiss escaping her as she cracked her whips, the gruesome things lashing out with far more reach than they should have.

Varric threw himself aside, Anders raised a shield of shimmering energy before him.

Both fell to the pressure-wave though. The dwarf crashed into the wall with a crack that left him lying face down in the ground, unmoving. The mage gasped, falling onto one knee as he clutched his chest, the blue glow in his eyes fading as he slowly fell onto his side, the cracks in his face widening, bleeding profusely.

Still hissing, Merrill spun, whips a blur of red before they wrapped themselves around Aveline that had only now managed to get to her feet. The guardswoman, eyes wide, shook her head. "Merrill what are you-"

The woman's screams echoed through the chamber as dark light shot out from Merrill's hands and through her whips of blood before enveloping the human.

The screams continued, turning into a crescendo, then a shrill shriek, agony wracking the woman as she slowly got electrocuted to death.

Coughing, Garrett struggled onto one knee, clutching at his bleeding head. "S-stop..."

Shriveling into black ash, the whips disappeared as Merrill let the guardswoman fall to the ground. Instead, she turned glowing eyes to Garrett, a low growl emanating from her lips. In the distance, Dhavine's words were a distant, hushed, purr. "Yes, stop playing, _kill him_..."

"She will do no such thing." Turning his head, vision swimming, Garrett watched the entrance to the cave become a sea of movement as Keeper Marethari appeared, the whole Dalish clan at her heel, bows strung and ready. The old elf's gaze was on Dhavine, unfazed by the demon's smirk. "This madness ends now."

"Oh Marethari, you foolish old woman..." Smirking, Dhavine turned her head, smiling at Merrill's pale face. "...you never understood just how powerful your student was, did you? But _I_ did..." Smirking, the demon looked back to Marethari. "You want her back? Come and take her!"

With an inhuman howl, Merrill leapt forward.

As one, the elves at Marethari's back let loose a volley of arrows.

Only for the missiles to harmlessly smash into green vines exploding from the ground in front of the elf, vines turning red and thin, covered in hook-like blades.

The vines lashed out at the screaming elves, only to explode into fire and ash as Marethari's staff glowed with power, her voice a rapt command. "Merrill, come to your senses!"

Another volley of arrows followed.

This time, they struck blood, a _wall_ of it, growing as it poured out from Merrill's outstretched hands like a smoke. Growing and _changing_, the arrows breaking within the wall, falling to the ground even as monstrous faces began to appear in the blood, large and with wide mouths covered in shining teeth of black blood.

Slowly, the wall began to move forward.

Silence.

Then Marethari snapped an order in elven, and the Dalish at her back screamed and began to run even as the Keeper herself took a step forward, her staff pointing forward, a spear of concentrated fire shooting out into the centre of the wall.

A growl escaped Merrill...and she pushed forward, the wall following, pressing against the fire raking it and making it boil.

Staring in horror, Garrett watched Marethari's determined face slowly turn into fear and horror, and then, glancing back at the emptiness behind her, into a sudden look of calm, even a _smile_.

The smile disappeared when the walls reached her, turning into a mask of agony as blackened teeth tore into her torso and legs. A monstrous head biting her staff in two, another tearing a chunk out of her calf, a third ripping an arm off. The woman screamed, but it was a short-lived cry, ended swiftly as another set of black teeth closed around her head, ripping it off.

With a gasp, Merrill lowered her arms, the wall of blood falling to the ground, forming a deep puddle around a dismembered and gory mess that had once been her Keeper.

Garrett, swallowing, shook his head. "So much for you saving your people..."

Merrill flinched, purple-glowing eyes staring at him, then down to Marethari, then up to where her clan had stood against her not a moment ago, then back to the dead Keeper, staring.

"Well..." Dhavine chuckled. "...wasn't that fun? Now to finish off your other friends."

Slowly, the Dalish turned her head, then her body, staring at Dhavine, the purple in the elf's eyes flickering and flashing even as they narrowed.

Dhavine smirked back. "Oh? Did I push you too far? A shame...guess I'll have to find a new toy to-"

The cry of rage exploding from Merrill's throat was like nothing Garrett had ever heard before. Full of horror, pain, grief and rage, it echoed through the chamber like a clarion-call.

The elf, unarmed, launched herself at the demon.

Who with a chuckle spun aside from the mad rush, shaking her head. "Really now? I expected more from-"

Another cry, and Merrill lunged, grabbed a hold of Dhavine's tail, and sent a bolt of lighting at the demon. Snorting as she brushed aside the attack, Dhavine never even saw the kick before it smashed into her jaw, bowling her over and knocking her to the ground.

The hiss suddenly escaping Dhavine as she rolled out of the dirt was no longer amused. "That was foolish, mortal!" Suddenly hovering in the air, the tip of Dhavine's tail and her every finger grew, turning into long claws as the demon's face split into a wide growl. "The very veil bends to my will and I will not-!"

Roaring in blind rage, Merrill didn't care, the elf hurtling into Dhavine, knocking her backwards, gripping and tearing, punching and kicking like mad at the demon now flying backwards.

"_Enough_!" Throwing the elf off, the demon's claws dripping with blood, Dhavine's hands crackled with energy. "Die, fool!" The lightning lashed out like a blade against Merrill, the energy dwarfing the elf in size.

Only to rebound as blood spurting from Merrill's clawed shoulders shot out, knocking the energy aside like a shield...that a moment later lunged out, smashing into Dhavine's face and knocking her backwards.

All around, the air began to crackle with power, a build up of energy so vast, Garrett felt it prickling his skin and nerves. On the floor, his other companions were coming to, eyes wide as they stared at the fight in the centre of the chamber. In the alcoves of the walls, the stone chests within suddenly split and cracked, smouldering into gravel as Elven skeletons climbed out, still shimmering blades in their hands.

_Maker, no_...

Merrill, oblivious, paid the undead no mind as she launched herself once more at Dhavine, blood from her palms turning into blades, only to be knocked aside by the demon's claws as her tail lashed out, drawing a cut across the elf's face.

All air drawn from his lungs, Garrett tried to reach out, but everything felt too heavy and too clumsy, as if the veil itself was slowing him down as the two magic entities battled. _Look_ _out_...

Merrill, still not seeing the undead coming closer, parried another slashing claw, green vines growing out from the ground trying to wrap around Dhavine, only to shrivel and die at first touch.

The demon, hissing, slashed her tail across Merrill's torso, sending a piece of chainmail flying and making the elf stagger back. Growling in hatred, Dhavine hurtled after the elf, claw splintering one of Merrill's swords of blood, the other gripping the other, pinning it to the ground as the demon's foot knocked the elf onto her back.

"And now..." Leaning down, her foot pressing down on Merrill's gasping chest, Dhavine smirked. "...you'll-"

With a howl, Dhavine staggered off Merrill, a gaping wound pouring black blood from her shoulder-blade, eyes wide as she stared at the skeleton before her raising a crimson-stained blood.

"Filth!" The demon shot out a hand, a bolt of energy shattering the skeleton to dust...and then she gasped, a blade suddenly protruding out from her chest as an undead coming up behind her pressed its blade in deep. "You can't-argh!" Dhavine's outstretched arm fell to the ground, hissing with smoke as another undead stepped on the limb. "No! No impossible!"

All around, the undead elves closed in, shimmering blades raising and falling as they surrounded the demon.

Then, there was silence.

Slowly, the undead lowered their blades, stepped away from the gory mess that once had been Dhavine, and turned their hollowed eyes to the Eluvian.

One turned its head, looking to the elf still lying on her back in the centre of the floor.

Swallowing, Merrill nodded.

The undead turned his empty eyes back to the mirror...and hurled his blade at it.

With a crash of shattering glass, the mirror broke, only the frame remaining as everything within turned into jagged edges and emptiness.

Again, the undead turned, looking to Merrill.

Who nodded, voice a weak gasp. "Th-Thank you..."

Nodding, the undead turned, marched back to their alcoves and climbed into what remained of their coffins, blades across their chests and bodies unmoving once more.

Lost for words, and too tired to speak to them even if he had them, Garrett struggled to stand, eyes on Merrill.

He watched her stare at the mirror, then to where Dhavine had been but a moment ago, then over to the remains of the Keeper, then her companions, all lying spread across the chamber, staring at her.

Then, finally, to Garrett.

There were no words to describe the look in her eyes.

Slowly, Merrill rolled to her side and pulled her knees up to her chest, arms wrapping around them.

There were no tears.

No whimpers.

Only silence.

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson,for being there._


	78. Chapter 78

Garrett was sitting on the floor.

Back against a door.

_The _door.

He'd been there the majority of the time for the last five days, the longest time he'd spent idle in _years_.

It was not restful though, it was painful, _horrible_.

It felt like just yesterday that he'd carried Merrill off the mountain, the woman catatonic, despite Anders' hollow promises that she was in good health.

Yet it also felt like a hundred years since they'd gotten home, when she'd suddenly stepped out of his arms and headed right to one of the guest-rooms, locking the door behind her. Not a word spoken.

Oriana was the only one Merrill let in, the elf servant was quiet as a mouse whenever she left the room with empty plates or entered it with full ones, so at least Garrett knew his wife was _eating_. But other than that...he hadn't asked Oriana what was going on behind those doors, the look in her eyes forbade it and...he didn't dare.

In the back of his mind, Garrett knew issues were heaping up as he sat there.

Meredith's policy-war with the nobility had not abated, and they were now without his leadership. On the streets, people were clamouring for the services Meredith had ended with her power-grab and left to Garrett to improvise solutions. And while Varric was supposedly doing his best, even Garrett in his current isolation knew there were rumours flying across the city about what had happened to him and his Dalish wife.

In his office, papers were piling up. All across the city, people were waiting for him, having booked meetings he never came to.

Yet Garrett couldn't move, couldn't leave her.

Part of him wanted to, desperately so.

Another part wanted to bar the door and never let her out.

Yet another to throw her out.

A third, dark and hurt part, to lock her into a dungeon and throw away the key.

Yet for all that, he mostly wanted her to open the door for him, to let him in, to _see _her.

_Maker_... Garrett's hands moved up, pressing against his eyes, then forehead, trying to push away the pain and weariness, but, as always, without success. _She's killing me_.

Garrett wasn't the one to forgive, nor forget. Yet at the same time, Merrill was in there, broken and beyond his reach, and it was tearing him apart.

He hated it, and he hated _her_, for doing it to him.

For having lied to him, for having avoided him, for betraying him, for hurting him and all his friends, for nearly getting herself killed.

Yet, he somehow was assailed by guilt as well. Doubt, feelings and memories that constantly tore away at his resolve.

_If I'd been more attentive_- 

_If I'd helped her rather than_-

_If I'd been a better husband_-

_If I'd not helped her_-

Garrett's hands moved down, back to his eyes, pressing into them with a whimper. There were no tears, they'd long since run out. _Isabela was right, I should have spent more time with her and not on all that_..._shit_.

Next to him, his whimper was echoed, Maric moving to sit up, a large paw softly pressing into Garrett's thigh.

Burying his face deeper into his hands, Garrett managed a whisper. "Thank you." _For just being there_.

Maric, of course, didn't need the words, as always, he just knew, the dog moving to lie down again, this time with his head across Garrett's legs.

_I was away for so long, so often, almost never saw her, fixated on my_..._and now that she's gone_..._n-now that she's gone_...

Garrett proved himself wrong, there were still tears left to shed.

_Maker, we've been fools_!

"Garrett...?"

The softly spoken question made Garrett hurry to look away, brushing his sleeve across his eyes even as he realised what a futile action it was. Given how long he'd stayed at Merrill's door, barely feeding himself, he knew he looked awful. When he looked back, it was with a hollow smile. "Varric?" The dwarf _was _a welcome sight, though the concerned look on his face hurt to see. Then, behind him... "Aveline? I..." He struggled to rise, then realised his legs had fallen asleep ages ago and forced a sheepish smile. "If you're looking for Isabela, she's asleep in another chamber, found her asleep here an hour ago and had her carried away."

"Found or realised she'd fallen asleep as you shared a seat?" Aveline asked, the woman mirroring Varric's concerned look. Noticing Garrett's guilty grimace, she shook her head. "You two are terrible. You're not really helping, sitting outside here, and what would she think, getting yourself sick and tired like this on her account?"

Garrett winced and pulled back at the words, but it was Varric answering, his eyebrows knotting into a frown as he glanced back at the guard-woman. "What else _can _they do, Aveline?"

Aveline bit her bottom lip, then sighed, shoulders slumping. "I...I know. It's just...frustrating, you know?"

"Tell me about it." Garrett managed a soft smile, though the pain behind it was obvious enough to make his two friends grimace.

A moment of silence passed, the three awkwardly looking at one another, Maric looking on with a droll look on his face.

Then Varric sighed, shifting where he stood. "So, for how long will you sit here? Say what you will about Aveline's diplomacy..."

"Hey!"

"...but she has a point, you can't just sit here, beating yourself up."

"But I have to be here when she..." Garrett sighed and looked away, shoulders slumping as a hand lazily stroked the hair at the back of Maric's skull. "...not that I'd know what to say...or do."

Garrett longed for the moment, yet dreaded it.

Another sigh, and he turned his body enough to look at the door, gazing at it, willing it to do...something, for something as simple as a _sound _to escape it.

Yet there was nothing.

"Okay, listen. Merrill likes me and Aveline, right?" Garrett looked back, finding Varric crouching in front of him, a gentle smile on his face.

"Yes...?" Garrett answered, wary but relieved at the same time at the implication of the question.

"And you trust us, right?"

Garrett managed a soft chuckle. "Yes, with my life, even."

"And you trust our judgement?"

"Of course." Garrett answered without a second thought, making Aveline and Varric both smile.

Varric straightened, offering his hand to the sitting Garrett. "Then let us take over here, we'll keep guard and help her if need be."

"But I-"

"Need to _rest_." Aveline grunted, a late smile softening the hard words.

"I don't..." Garrett glanced back at the door, biting his bottom lip at the thought of leaving it, _her_, even if it was in the hands of two of his closest friends. "...know if I should."

"But you trust us, right?" Varric asked, smile coloured by a sudden grin. "And since we _say _you need rest...?"

Garrett managed a dim smile. "Smooth-talker." He took the hand, legs protesting, barely awake by now, forcing Varric to grip Garrett's hand with his other hand and grunt as he pulled the human onto his feet. Once standing though, Garrett felt some energy course back into him, but it was energy pulling him backwards, his gaze hesitantly drawn back to the door. "Though I...I should...I..."

"_No_, Garrett." Aveline took a step forward, gaze firm. "You need to get away from this, at least for a while." Garrett grimaced and looked away, the words biting all too well. "You understand that, right? Get out, get some perspective and air. Or better yet, go to _bed_."

"I...guess." Garrett, heart heavy with regret, shot the door another look. _You could have opened it at any time until now_..._just a glimpse, a word, I_..._please_... The door remained firmly shut though. _Fine_. Sad but grim, Garrett turned away. "I'll...go to the Bonepit then."

"That's a...curious choice." Varric muttered, eyeing the human like he'd lost his mind.

_Maybe I have_? "The Coterie might be largely driven out of Kirkwall, but pockets are still raiding the countryside, taking revenge on me." Garrett grunted and shrugged. "And now they seem to have attacked the Bonepit, judging by the lack of reports. I'll go there with a company and track them down."

Aveline, crossing her arms over her chest, shook her head, tone disapproving. "Garrett..."

He was quick to interrupt. "It's better than staying here, in this..." _Depression_? _Darkness_? "...house." Garrett sighed. "I just need to go out, do something, maybe...maybe it'll make me think of something, something that can fix all..." He looked away, a shudder in his words as he barely held back sudden tears prickling his eyes. "..._this_."

"If you're sure..."

"I am, I need to _think_, plan, figure things out." _Fool's errand, Garrett, you have none of that with Merrill_... Garrett grit his teeth at his mind's voice.

"Just..." Varric stepped closer, giving Garrett a pat on the back. "...be careful."

"In the Bonepit?" Garrett asked, puzzled. _You know I always am_...?

"With what you _decide_." Varric smiled back.

It was a pained smile though.

8

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_Maker, what should I do_?

Garrett, his silverite armour shining in the sun, knew he looked every bit the noble and hero as he sat astride a white gelding of imposing size. It was a conscious choice of impression, for with the city rife with rumours about him and the state of him, he needed to reassure the people of his health and ability. And what better way than to look just like the hero they envisaged had slain the Arishok?

Still, he'd kept his helmet on and visor down when going through the streets, sure that his weariness would then have shown on his face, unnerving people.

It felt good though, being outside the city, free to open the visor and breathe the fresh air...it had been a wise decision.

It hadn't helped with the major issue though, his mind stood at a standstill.

_I can't just_..._forgive her, can I_?

_No, not after everything she's done_.

Garrett still had nightmares, seeing Merrill fight him and all her friends like some monster, but in his dreams, she always ended up killing them, one by one...

_It could have happened_.

_Dhavine was in control though_...

_But who __gave__ her__ control_?

Garrett sighed, the grief caused by the old argument in his head wearing down on him. _At least my troops seem too attentive of the surroundings to mind me_.

At the head of the column, ten men and women in green and brown cloth and leather made their way forward, bows drawn and eyes scanning the surroundings, the hired hunters acting as a vanguard and final warning as two of their companions scouted further ahead.

Garrett, riding next to a trotting Maric, was right behind the hunters, flanked by two other riders. Men picked by Bastile to accompany their lord. One carried the Hawke banner, the black cloth fluttering in a steady wind, making the bloodied pair of birds upon it seem almost alive. The other, now a sergeant, was sitting straight and proud. Pip, the short Orlesian, had now grown a proper moustache rather than the sorry thing he'd had back when they'd confronted the Arishok, but there was still something young and childish about him as he sat on his horse, head held high and a smile on his lips.

_Young enough to still believe in heroism_...

Garrett, snorting to himself, wondering when he'd gotten old, glanced back at the rest of his men. Considering he didn't know the strength of the Coterie attack, and that he'd needed to make a show of force to the people having come to doubt his ability to lead, there was a fair number of soldiers behind him. Well-equipped in chain mail and polished helmets, twenty of them carried crossbows while forty others marched with spears and dark kite shields.

_Enough to put the fear of the Maker in any bandit_.

"Serah, are you sure about this route?" Pip's question was respectful and carefully voiced, the boy no doubt sensing Garrett's state and being worried for him.

Garrett smiled, it was nice to have so many worry for him, it reminded him that there was a world outside the doom and gloom at home. _She_..._Maker, what will I do with her_? _Cast her out_? _I should_. "Yes, I'm sure. I know the large field on this approach puts us in an exposed position, but I prefer that to the narrower path where we can't manoeuvre when we're ambushed."

"_If_, you mean?"

"Well, I _hope _when, to be honest." Garrett managed a brief chuckle at Pip's wide eyes. "Means the Coterie are foolish enough to think they can take us. And that means we can then hunt them down and put an end to this annoyance." _If only all problems were so easily fixed_. _Merrill_..._what should I do with you_...? "I think I'd enjoy killing a few scum right about now, actually..."

"Err...of course, Serah." Pip bowed his head with a grimace, then turned his head, forcing a smile. "Lovely weather, no, lord?"

"Yes, it is." Garrett embraced the changed subject. "Not a cloud in the sky...a little too warm for me though."

Ahead, the ground was widening, opening into a large quarry of gravel and pebbles, a valley in which generations of miners had dumped the refuse from their operations while hunting precious gems and metals. The hunters at the front were exchanging looks as they jogged ahead, one of them shaking his head at another's question, making a third turn and start to jog back. _What now_? "Well of course you think so, Serah...with all due respect...but you _are _Fereldian."

Garrett, shaking his head, managed a weary smile. "And we bathe in snow half the year, you mean?"

Guffawing, Pip shrugged. "That's what I hear!"

"It's actually quite refreshing, you know."

"Errr...you're joking."

"What? You expected us to bring in enough water to fill a large tub, heat it up with lots of firewood and then bathe?" Garrett shot Pip an amused look. "I wasn't a noble back there, you know, yet I still needed to be somewhat clean during the winter..."

Pip, first staring in shock, then smiled. "No wonder Fereldians are known as tough."

Garrett shrugged, turning his gaze back to the huffing hunter jogging up to their column now fully inside the quarry. _No attack from the Coterie though_..._shame_. "Eh, at least we didn't have to endure Orlesian nobility."

"True enough!" Pip chuckled, though his tone turned somewhat cold as he continued. "They can be really cruel..."

Before Garrett could decide whether to pursue the subject or not, the hunter was in front of their horses, breathing heavily as she wiped her forehead with a gloved hand, her eyes worried. "Serah, Jensen and Cole have not checked back with us, they should have met us here."

_Hmm, scouts gone, eh_? Garrett grimaced, then raised his voice. "Column, fan out!" Behind him, there was a rustling as soldiers moved to obey. His attention back to the hunter, he looked at her widening eyes. "I want you and your group to move ahead but keep in sight of one another, bows notched and rea-" He frowned, realising she wasn't meeting his gaze, her head tilting ever more backwards. "What? What's wrong?"

The hunter took a step back, then another one, eyes turning wide as saucers. Next to him, Pip's voice was a small squeak. "S-serah...?"

"Yeah? What's the bloody..." Garrett turned in his saddle, frowning...only for the frown to turn into horror at the sight of the thing appearing behind them, rising from the quarry's stones like a whale pushing up from underneath the waves. "...problem?"

The thing's head was the size of Garrett and his mount combined, its body as big as a house, its tail as long as one of the sea serpents known to drag down ships into the sea. And all along its body, white scales shimmered and glinted, unblemished by the rocks and dust it had lied under, waiting in ambush. _Clever girl_...

"_Dragon_!"

The shout made the hunters, being the ones facing the right way to see the monster, to run in the opposite direction while his soldiers, slow and confused, turned to stare before they too started running away.

The flight ended with one roar and gust of flame, the energy around it crackling with magic, that engulfed the running hunters, turning them into melting torches taking a few stumbling steps before dropping to the ground, their clothes turned to ash and the flesh beneath a bubbling and scorched mess.

His horse roseon its hind legs in terror. Garrett drew his sword and pulled hard on the reins, trying to wrest back control of the terrified animal even as he shouted, not sure why as he had no plan and no idea what to do. "To me! To me!" _High dragon_! _A damn high dragon_!? _HERE_!? To his surprise, most were running towards him, though if it was due to his call or the sight of the killed hunters driving them back, he wasn't sure. _Magic, its breath is magic, so I should_...

Above, the dragon towered over him, mouth opening, chest widening, then narrowing.

_Nothing, nothing, nothing_!

The fire rushed out, and Garrett raised his shield on instinct even as he desperately tried to gain hold of his concentration enough.

_There is nothing, there is emptiness, Maker as my witness, if I die here_...

He felt the heat, so much it made his skin sting, fumes rising from his armour as his sweat evaporated the moment it escaped his skin, his horse stepping back with a whimpering neigh.

Yet the fire didn't touch him, it split like a fork in a river, running down on either side of him, avoiding not only him, but giving him enough of a wide birth that the men and women behind him or running straight at him avoided the fire as well.

Others were not so lucky, those that had run too far to the sides screamed and shrieked, though it was merely the fire brushing them. Rather than a head-on attack, it sent five to the ground, clawing at their burning flesh and armour. Five more were screaming, but only out of terror as they lay down and hid underneath their shields, covering them from the worst of the attack.

Then, the fire died out, the dragon before them looking at him with puzzlement, only to then narrow its red eyes.

Garrett, shaking from the strain of the barely managed shielding of himself and his troops, gasped a shout. "Crossbows, loose!"

The soldiers were still slow to react, but once the first bolt was loosed, the next were shot in rapid succession as men and women shouted in defiance of the great beast before them.

A single bolt punched through the scales of the dragon's underbelly as the others harmlessly skimmed off, and it only stayed there until the dragon flexed, the scales snapping the missile like a twig. "Prepare to charge!"

"_That _thing!?"

Before Garrett could answer or even look for who had shouted back, the dragon took flight, large alabaster wings shimmering like silver in the bright sun as it sent a cloud of dust into the eyes of the humans beneath it.

Behind him, Garrett heard Pip mutter a question. "Should we make a run for it, Serah...?"

"Like the hunters?" Garrett asked, staring at the dragon with equal parts admiration for its beauty and dread for its power as it flew over to the other side of the quarry, then higher into the air. "Do you really think it'll let us?"

With a roar, the dragon turned and swooped back, like a falcon about to catch its prey, mouth opening wide, a hellfire growing within. "Errr..." Pip's voice was but a squeak. "...doesn't look like it."

Between them, Maric barked out in annoyance at the human.

"Run and be _run down_!" Garrett shouted, making sure those that hadn't heard him and Pip's exchange would understand. "Behind me!" Garrett's bark was quickly heeded this time, the spear-men, falling back on their training, created a ring of shields, as the crossbowmen in the centre reloaded their weapons, as if ready to receive an assault from all directions.

_Nothing, calm, plan, figure it out_..._calm_...

The fire, a spear of light and death, struck the ground ahead with enough force to send shards of glowing and smoking stones flying, yet then it reached Garrett and his troops.

_Nggggh_! Swaying in his saddle. Garrett felt the full force of the fire emanating from the dragon's gullet press down on him, trying to crush him under its weight...only to then disappear as it flew past him. _Maker__, I can't do that for much longer_... Turning his shaking horse around, Garrett watched the dragon sweep away, then lazily turned, as if it had all the time in the world. ..._and it knows that_.

_And I can't even do much until we_...

"Crossbows! I want that thing brought down! _Now_!"

Ahead, the dragon, a spear of white silver, hurtled towards them, claws raised, fire growing between sword-sized teeth.

_It's going to_..._oh damn_.

"Now! Now! Now!"

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson, for her strength._


	79. Chapter 79

_I'm a terrible person_.

_No, not person, monster_.

_I'm horrible, awful, mean, cruel, stupid_...

Merrill had a dim memory of being in the estate, lying on the floor at the foot of a bed she didn't deserve, naked and vulnerable to the world.

It was all an illusion though, _she_ was the monster, the killer, the murderer. The predator, not the prey.

The world had shrunk though, by now there was only the memory, all else was darkness, cold and unforgiving, a mirror of blackness, an abyss she was forced to stare into.

She didn't like what stared back, yet she did it anyway.

She deserved it.

_I betrayed Garrett, made __demons__ touch him_...

_I nearly killed Isabela, Aveline, Maric, Varric, Anders_..._G_-_Garrett_..._everyone_...

_A-and Marethari, my __Keeper__, the warden of my people_...

She spasmed, distant arms hugging equally distant legs, everything...dark and fading.

_I butchered her_!

_I made demons rip her apart and feast on her blood_!

_I would have done it to the rest of my people too, had they stayed_!

_And Dhavine laughed_!

_Laughed_...!

In the darkness, Merrill could still hear the sound, seductive, cruel and amused. Once, it had been like silvery pears, alluring, wonderful, a relief to hear, a balm on her stress and worry of the work she was doing. Now it was the opposite, a mockery, telling her just what a fool she'd been, how the demon had played Merrill like a puppet, and so wretchedly _easy_!

The laugh didn't end, nor did it grow, it was merely _there_, days of mockery, hounding Merrill's every moment.

Merrill might have killed the demon in the real world, but what was _that_ to an immortal demon? Nothing but a shell, a toy to play with in another world. In the end, Dhavine had _won_. She was free, free and enjoying her being completely out of the Eluvian, of all the power she now possessed, bent on forcing other demons to her will, like all powerful ones did. And to Dhavine, years were but a flicker of nothing, she would find another fool in time, another place, another _host_...and the world would suffer again.

Yes, Dhavine had truly won.

_And I've failed_.

_My clan_.

_My people_.

_My race_.

_Garrett_.

_Myself_.

_Everyone_.

The world was, as it had for days, spinning, drawing her deeper into the dark pit of despair where nothing but demons and shadows lived, clawing at her naked soul, mocking the flickering light inside her.

_My fault_.

_My_ _wrong_.

_I'm the villain_.

In the distance, there was a thumping sound.

"Hey...Daisy...?"

_No_.

"...you there?"

_No_, _go_ _away_.

Merrill vaguely remembered Garrett calling for her before. How many days had he done that? How many days since he'd stopped? In the darkness, there was no time.

She hadn't answered then, she wouldn't now.

"Open up, damn it!" _Aveline_? The thump of a gauntleted hand striking the door certainly suggested it. "This is ridiculous...I know we promised Hawke to just, you know, wait but..."

"Daisy, I know you can hear us." Varric's mutter interrupted Aveline's frustrated growling. "Just...know that we're out here, okay? We're here and we're worried for you, okay?" A pause. "We're here for you."

_No, don't, go away, all should go away_.

"We won't leave."

_Flee_...

"We won't let you go."

_I might hurt you_..._I_ _might_..._I_ _might_ _k_-_kill_ _you_...

"We'll wait, however long it takes."

_No more need to die, go away, I don't want anyone more to die_...

"We love you."

_Please leave_...

Underneath her, the spinning world shook.

Aveline's mutter was barely audible in its wake. "What was that?"

"Huh? I didn't feel any-" Varric cursed as, again, the ground shook, enough to make even Merrill frown, the jarring feeling throwing her in a spin in her darkness. "Okay, I felt _that_!"

Then, a roar, distant, yet powerful enough to make Merrill hear a candlestick tumble off a nearby table.

Merrill, the world, stopped. _Wh-where's Garrett_? The question, so jarring, made the shadows tearing at her light stop, the pit of despair replaced by bubbling..._fear_.

"Hoooly...is that a dragon in the sky?!" Varric's exclamation was followed by a curse. "It's so far away though yet...Maker!"

"High Dragon!?" Aveline gasped, worry colouring her voice. "Where did it come from!? It's this close to Kirkwall!? Where is it heading!?"

_He's not here, not here, he'd be speaking if he was, he's not here_...

Trembling, her every limb aching, Merrill suddenly rose to her feet, not knowing what she was doing, nor caring.

"Not here, at least..." Varric grunted, then whistled a soft curse. "...it's over the Bone Pit."

_Bone Pit, Bone Pit_..._no more need to die, I don't want anyone more to die_...

Dark spots were dancing before her vision, yet she turned, her heart aching, her soul crushed, yet somehow, _moving_.

"The Bone Pit? But that's where..." Aveline's voice died, turning into a whisper of fright. "...oh no."

In the distance, there was another roar, the booming call enough to make the very air tremble in fright. Promising death, loss and pain, as sure as the sunrise.

_No_..._no_..._please_ _no_..._don't do it_...

A third roar, louder, more confident, gleeful and full of power, reverberated through the air. It was a _hungry_ roar.

..._don't you __dare_!

Merrill's aching body moved, suddenly long strides bringing her to the door, wrenching it open even as she bit her lip, drawing blood as she cast her hearing into the fade.

"_Ohhh, is that my dear Merrill_...? _What_-"

"_Shut up, Dhavine. Demons, heed me, take this blood, feed, but obey my mind_!"

"_You really don't learn, do_-"

"_I told you to shut up_."

Before her, Aveline and Varric were turning away from the window they were gazing out of. Outside, the sun was blinding, yet Merrill could still see it, a silvery spot, like a star in the daylight, hovering in the sky in the distance.

Aveline, shielding her eyes, looked away. "Oh for...clothes, woman!"

Varric, however, merely stared at Merrill's face, eyes wide. "Merrill, what are you-" A distant, but growing, rattling interrupted him, making him frown in disapproval and worry. "Is that blood on your lip...?"

"Enough of this!" Aveline snapped, shaking her head. "Merrill, there's no time, there's a dragon over the Bone Pit and I think Hawke is...is that armour _moving_!?

Turning, Merrill jumped...and the thin leather armour rushed onto her, straps and leather strings fitting the leather over her skin as if animated with a life of their own. A moment later, the silverite chainmail rushed into her, armour cocooning around her as straps clicked into place and armoured her from head to toe.

"_Staff_."

Turning around, Merrill found Varric and Aveline staring at her in fright. Varric's voice lacking all the usual charm as he spoke. "Daisy, please don't do anything..."

"Out of my way." Merrill reached back, crouching low even as her staff, having hurtled all the way from the armoury, flew into her hand.

Then she was running, making Varric and Aveline jump to the side, eyes wide even before the window shattered before the elf's blazing eyes. She ran, jumped...and leaped out the window.

Behind her, Varric's voice was a distant gasp of wonder. "...stupid."

She landed in the courtyard, rolling with the impact even as a horse, having torn its way out of the stable in a fit of demon-induced madness, galloped at her. Gripping onto the mane, Merrill swung up on the beast, her mental command sending the lesser demons to the horse's hooves, speeding it up as each step became like a feather, making the horse neigh in terror even as it rushed on, running in fear at Merrill's command.

Along the streets, people barely saw more than a blur as the silverite-covered elf rode past, all she saw were wide eyes and frightened stares, equally looking at her and the distant dragon.

They were of no concern though, she was done hiding.

_I'm coming, love, even if I don't deserve to_.

Dhavine's chuckle was distant, yet oh so present. "_Merrill, Merrill, you can't save anyone_..."

"_Shut_ _up_."

_No one more dies_.

8

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Her horse fell, a sudden ball of fire exploding under it, engulfing the beast, making it shriek as it crumpled to the ground.

Merrill, flying forward, turned her shoulder and slammed into the ground, rolling with the impact as best she could, narrowed eyes staring across the battlefield.

The dragon who'd almost killed Merrill hadn't even seen her. It was swooping by, a winged spear of white silver, tipped by a pair of red eyes, sweeping through the air with unmatched grace. Whizzing around it, bolts loosed from a small group on the ground mostly missed the swift monster, but those that struck merely skimmed off the scales of the monster.

And among the group...

_Garrett_.

Merrill breathed in deep, staring.

The man's silverite armour couldn't be mistaken, shining like a star in the light of the fires raging along the quarry. He was sitting atop a white horse, the beast rearing with every pass off the dragon as the rider struggled to control both the beast and the people surrounding him, who seemed to be growing more and more panicked by every second that passed.

She could feel it, the strange abnormality in the fade, the emptiness that a templar projected, surrounding the man.

Normally, the feeling was sickening, but as the dragon swept over the group, its fire shimmering like tiny stars as it struck the air around the man and his group without touching them, it was _beautiful_.

Many had died though, one of the corpses knelt not too far from her, the body nothing but charred skin and red blisters, leaning over and resting on a smoking banner lodged into the ground, the flag above still proudly flying the Hawke colours even as the pole itself slowly burnt.

The dragon, almost lazily, circled the group, then roared, suddenly diving in, like a falcon sighting its prey.

It took but a second, but then it had passed the group, swords and spears harmlessly sliding off its scales as it gripped a soldier in a claw. Ignoring his screams, the still flying dragon threw him into its mouth, swallowing the warrior whole before once more lazily turning for another pass.

Some of the soldiers around Garrett began to run even as the man, swinging his sword over his head, seemed to shout for them to rally. Above, the dragon took a deep breath, the energy of the fade gathering within its chest as it steered towards the routers.

Merrill, staring at it, saw it in its eyes; Hunger, greed, _disdain_ for the tiny people before its might.

She saw a _monster_.

Spear raised, Merrill advanced.

_We're kin then_...

The thought was bitter, sad, _angry_.

..._let me show you what I do with kin_.

A surge of energy, the fade gathering around her with a speed she'd never managed before, drawing on the energies stored in the world, the static in the air, the very bonds holding the world together.

The lightning bolt shot out straight and true, striking the dragon just under its wing.

With a shriek of pain and surprise, the dragon was knocked off course, the creature nearly crashing into the cliffs surrounding the quarry before it righted itself, head turning left and right, trying to locate the new threat.

_Here_.

Again, the air crackling around her as electricity gathered around her like a cloud, Merrill hurled another lightning bolt at the beast, the bolt missing the beast by a hair as it twisted in the air, narrowing red eyes fixing on her.

_Yes, here_.

A third bolt shot out, raking along the dragon's spine as it with a roar of rage hurtled towards her, wings beating hard to increase speed as rage gripped it.

_Come then, here_!

Maw opening wide, the dragon swept down.

Merrill, spear spinning over her head, met its gaze, her breathing heavy as she let the fade curve around her feet, then up towards her legs, up, up, towards her hands, twirling energies drawing on the earth, reminding every grain of gravel and stone of when it was another place, when it was moved, when it was _rock_.

_Come here_!

With a crackling, then a crunch, the spear of solid rock breaking out of the ground before Merrill was no thin blade, it was a battering ram the size of the very dragon suddenly finding itself hurtling towards it.

With a shriek, the monster spun sideways, wings nearly getting skewerd on the giant spear before it managed to withdraw them, only to send itself crashing into the ground behind Merrill with enough impact to send her tumbling onto her side.

Roaring, blind with rage and the dust thrown up by its own fall, the dragon reared up, then ran past Merrill, clawed feet nearly crushing her in its wild rampage as it dragged its head along the ground, trying to loose something caught in its eye.

Then, it stopped, shaking its head before twisting its serpentine head, a thin trickle of blood escaping its left eye, an eye ablaze with rage as it stared at the prone elf.

_Oh_.

With deliberate slowness, the creature turned its entire body, eyes fixed on Merrill, sword-long teeth bared in a enraged snarl...

Then Garrett rode past it, the man shouting like a madman as his silverite blade struck, sending scales and blood flying from underneath the jaw of the dragon. Hissing in anger more than pain, the dragon tore its eyes off the elf to glower at the human riding over to its left...only for it to hiss in anger once more as the soldiers now on its right sent a shower of crossbow bolts at its face even as the ones with spears charged in a long line, screaming in terror.

A snarl of annoyance, and the dragon swept its long tail round, sending stones and men alike flying as the charge was scattered. At the same time it turned, gaze fixed on the noble reining his horse in for another mad charge.

_I told you, no more die today_!

The rock, still remembering when it moved, embraced by the energies of the fade, embraced Merrill's manipulations. First the tip of the spear she'd summoned from the ground broke off, then the rest, pieces the size of the elf herself, hurtled at the dragon, making it growl and pull its head away as it tried to avoid the worst of the barrage.

When it turned its head back to see its foes, Garrett was nearly on top of it, a raged cry escaping his throat as he raised his blade high. The dragon, snorting in irritation, beat its wings, gaining altitude...

Around Merrill, the fade thrashed and rocked like a sea in a storm, her rapid manipulations of its energies upsetting its balance. _Come on, come on_..._seeds of old, dried and dead, remember life, remember growth, remember_..._yourself_.

Shooting out from the ground, green vines, each as thick as a human's leg, lashed onto the dragon, wrapping around its legs, pulling it down, much to its surprised hiss.

A hiss turning to a cry of agony as Garrett rushed at it.

Riding under its right wing, the man thrust his sword high, piercing the leathery skin of the creature's wing before the running of his horse caused the blade to slice and cut its way down across the length of the membrane. Stark red blood gushed from the wound, following the man and his horse like a cloak of crimson.

Crying out, so loud as to shake the ground, the dragon stumbled to its left, the left wing was beating hard, the right struggling to do the same, the cut along the length making it difficult.

Then Maric was there, the snarling Mabari throwing itself at the cut, biting into one side of injury before ripping and pulling, tearing the hole wide and showering the dog in blood.

Shrieking, enraged and in pain, the dragon made its now useless wing swing wide...and Maric, a piece of wing still stuck in his jaws, flew across the quarry, growling in pain as he crashed and rolled on the ground, a shred of the dragon's wing wrapped around him like a blanket.

Then, the shrieking turning into a hiss, the dragon turned and pulled its legs hard, the vines around it snapping like it was mere grass.

Stepping in a circle, its red eyes swept over the field, at the now running soldiers, at the noble on his horse, facing it with a sword drenched in its blood, and then the little elf, also facing it with brandished weapon...its eyes calculating the greatest threat.

To Merrill's surprise, the roar of the beast was followed by it turning and barrelling straight for _her_, its thunderous steps not as fast as its flight, but faster than _any_ ground-bound animal Merrill had ever seen. _Vines, earth, rock_!

The dragon barely slowed when another green vine erupted from the ground in front of it, its steps only slowing enough to allow it to snap its teeth around the plant and rip it right out of the ground.

The earth around it erupted like a volcano, hurling dozens upon dozens of razor-sharp rocks. The dragon strode through it all, the missiles striking it simply skimming off its white scales.

Stone, once more, erupted in front of Merrill, a wall of solid grey rock, thrice her height, a shield on which the dragon would crash into.

It didn't, it reared up, a clawed foot coming down on the wall, smashing it over, making Merrill yelp and throw herself back to avoid the falling stones as the dragon's claws ground the stone underneath them to dust.

On her back, scrambling backwards, spear and magic alike forgotten Merrill could _feel_ the dragon's hot breath wash over her, watch every facet of its cruel face as it leant closer, eyes alight with spite and hunger for revenge. _N-no one more d-dies_...?

Opening its maw, the dragon took a deep breath as Merrill's wide eyes stared into a gullet filling with crackling fire.

The fade, shaking around her from her quick manipulations, now centred around the dragon, curving around it like a maelstrom...

And then, disappeared.

Groaning, the feeling of her sixth sense suddenly being blinded, Merrill still stared as the dragon's fire was suddenly extinguished mid-breath. The creature, blinking, tensed, twitching as a distant cry reached Merrill's ringing ears.

Quick as a serpent, the dragon turned, maw snapping, teeth rending and sending blood flying.

_No_!

Merrill screamed in horror, then gasped in relief as she found Garrett landing on one knee on the ground underneath the dragon, the man raising his shield as the blood from his horse stuck in the dragon's maw rained over him.

The dragon, however, didn't give him a chance to rise, a foreleg kicking out smashed into a silverite breastplate, sending the man flying across the quarry like he was nothing but a pebble.

_No, no, no_...

Moaning, her senses swimming, Merrill struggled to rise. She could barely feel the fade anymore, but what she felt was a roaring sea, thrown out of balance, untameable.

Before her, there was a cloud of dust and a whipping white tail as the dragon rushed after the human getting to his feet.

The dragon was on him in moments, teeth snapping at the air where the man had been as he with surprising speed sidestepped its lunge, his flashing blade sending sparks flying as it struck the dragon's snout.

Merrill forced her right leg up, the gravel hard under her feet, pushing hard, she stared at the fight as she slowly managed to get on her feet.

The dragon, unamused by the blow to its face, whipped its head round for another bone-crushing bite, only to yet again miss as the human jumped back, flashing shield reflecting the sun into the beast's eyes, making the noble hard to pinpoint.

_Won't be enough_.

Appearing on the dragon's left flank, slower than before, but still quicker than any man, Maric leapt at the dragon's unwounded wing, claws digging into thin membranes, ripping and shredding.

Hissing, annoyed more than anything, the dragon shrugged the dog off, only for the Mabari to rush at it again, barking calls echoing across the quarry as the hound lunged for the dragon's neck and face with suicidal bravery.

_Not nearly enough_...

Distracted by the dog, despite the way its claws merely scratched the scales of its neck, the dragon barely spotted Garrett's thrust in time. Yet it turned, like a worm wiggling away from the fisherman's hook, it made the blade merely skim off a scaly eyebrow instead of plunging into its eye.

_No, no it won't work_...

Merrill reached for her belt, finding the small dagger there, seemingly waiting for her. _I shouldn't_.

Ahead, the dragon pulled its head up high, far from the reach of the man and dog assaulting it. Then, letting loose a shrill cry of anger, its tail whipped forth.

Maric dodged the tail with a woof...and then whimpered as a clawed foot stepped onto him, pressing him into the ground like a bug, nearly squashing him whole as the dragon pressed him into the stones beneath.

_I won't be a monster_..._not_ _again_... Merrill's hands trembled, dagger's blade lying across her palm. Crying out, Garrett rushed to his Mabari's aid, only for the dragon's second leg to smash into him, knocking him onto his back before stepping on him as well. _I won't_!

The pain was a distant burning feeling, but nothing compared to the pain of seeing Garrett pressed into the ground as the dragon leant closer.

"_Demons, heed me_..."

"_Ohh, Merrill, Merrill_..._addicted for our power, are you_...?"

"_No you, Dhavine_! _Demons of rage, come_..._come_!"

"_Why Merrill, are you offering them a feast_? _That's dangerous_..."

"_Shut up. Demons, feed, feed, I give you blood for blood, burn it all_..."

Ahead, the dragon was leaning down on the pinned Garrett, teeth dripping, eyes blazing.

Merrill's wound boiled, pumping blood searing her skin as the blood blackened and burnt.

The dragon stopped, blinking in confusion.

"_Merrill, the dragon has faaar more blood than you, you stand no_-"

"_Shut up_!" Merrill, gritting her teeth, pulled her dagger across her palm again. "_Feed more, I give you more, take it, take __more_..."

The dragon, hissing, took a step back, feet leaving Garrett and Marric, both lying on the ground, gasping for air.

"_Burn it, boil it, feed_..." Merrill winced, the blood in her hand smouldering as the demons pushed through the veil, feasting on the offering even as they directed their claws upon the dragon.

The dragon coughed, shaking its head as it took another step from the noble and his dog.

"_More, more, more_!" Merrill, weeping in pain, felt the fire spread past her wound, past her skin, into her flesh, making the veins in her hand glow as agony wracked her every nerve.

Writhing, tail lashing mad, the dragon stumbled sideways, head swinging back and forth, as if trying to shake off something latched onto it. Its shrill cry echoed along the quarry, confused, pained, _scared_.

_Gods, it hurts_...

"_Indeed, you can't beat it, you can't win. Maybe, if you had a more powerful demon_..."

"_Silence, Dhavine_!" Merrill, breathing heavily, sunk to one knee. "_More, take more, feed, kill_..._save him, save us_..."

"_You'll die, if you keep this up_..._is he worth it_? _You __truly__ think so_...?" Dhavine's laugh was like chiming peals in Merrill's ears, mocking her.

"Shut. Up." Merrill grunted the words out loud, her vision swimming as her entire arm began to glow, the veins within like rivers of fire.

_Hurts_...

The dragon, dragging its head through the ground like a mad dog, was wailing, inexplicable agony racking through the creature that rarely knew pain and _never_ knew fear.

Then, raising its head, agony making its body shiver, it fixed its gaze on _Merrill_.

"_More_, _more_...!" Merrill's other knee gave in, the agony in her nerves growing, going _deeper_, gripping at her lungs and heart, ripping the very air out of her.

Ripping her very _life_ out of her.

Roaring, shrieking, blood pouring from the corners of its eyes, the dragon trundled towards her on unsteady legs, each footstep a ground-shaking boom in Merrill's throbbing head.

"_You'll die, I knew you would, all who Garrett loves will die_..._I know it to be tru_e..." Dhavine purred. "_You should just give up_."

Growling, Merrill shook her head, then gritted her teeth. "_I'm done doing what you tell me_." Gasping, her knife moved, cutting along her glowing arm.

The smell of smouldering flesh deep in her nostrils, her vision dimming, Merrill barely saw the dragon, only a white mist, coming at her.

She saw the _eyes_ though, blazing red eyes, glowering at her as they leant closer.

There was nothing but _hatred_ in them.

It opened its maw...

And then a silver blur crashed into it.

The dragon, slow, as slow as Merrill had suddenly become, turned its head, teeth snapping for its foe.

It bit into a shield slammed into its maw, teeth grinding into metal, slowly bending...

Then its head was forced upwards by the silver blur, followed by a shower of red as a blade punched into its jaw, followed by another shower of red as the blade pulled out.

The dragon tried to pull away, jaws slowly crushing the shield in its mouth.

The blur, releasing the shield, slashed its blade over the dragon's left eye, drawing a low whimper out of it as it simply fell, a cloud of grey dust billowing around it.

Within Merrill's head, Dhavine's laugh died out.

The blur, slowly growing into focus as Merrill blinked, her head swimming, reversed the blade in his hands and raised it high.

With a groan, Garrett slammed the blade through the dragon's eye and into its skull.

The dragon didn't growl, nor whimper, it merely sighed...and went still.

_No_..._no_ _one_ _dies_...

Merill shook her head, exhausted, tired, _drained_.

Yet she couldn't help but look at Garrett, watch him release the hilt of his blade and step away from the dragon they'd just killed. Then watch him suddenly turn his head, looking at _her_.

She, watching every facet of his disbelieving face, smiled.

Then, suddenly, the man laughed.

Merrill, wracked by agony, somehow managed to laugh back, a hoarse and small sound as relief and amazement washed over her.

Garrett's laugh died moments later though, replaced by a strange look Merrill hadn't seen in ages.

She, her smile faltering, found her aching body shiver, her heart skipping a beat.

Then he was marching towards her even as she opened her arms.

He knelt before her, fast, hard, one hand digging into her hair, the other around her waist as her arms wrapped around his neck, her lips parting before she was even aware of what they were doing.

They kissed.

Long, hard, demanding and hungry.

And didn't stop.

8

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8

_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for being such a tough little nut._


	80. Chapter 80

_Ah, beautiful day_.

Varric was in a good mood, and as he strode up the path leading through the Hawke estate's garden towards the estate itself, he found himself pushing his hands into the pockets of his coat and whistling a note without either melody nor tune. To his right, a lean gardener straightened from his work to shoot the dwarf an irritated look, but Varric didn't much care as he continued to whistle poorly and head for the palace ahead.

Varric had plenty to be pleased about. The Hanged Man was full of happy people as of late, giving it that warm atmosphere he'd missed...not to mention giving him lots of people to regale with fun stories. Further, people had been very positive, despite all their hardships and the city being nearly under marshal law at the hands of the Templars' rule.

Of course, the _reason_ for the happiness was likely not to be long-lived, but Varric had learnt to take what he could. Everywhere the tale was being spoken, _everyone_ knew of it...how Garrett Hawke, Champion, unofficial Viscount, had slain a High Dragon with his beautiful elven maiden at his side like the heroes of old. The tale was full of drama, heroics and even a sprinkle of romance...Varric ought to know, he'd told it so many times now his throat had gotten raw.

It was perfect.

And not something made up or loosely based on fact either, for Garrett and Merrill hadn't been the only ones there.

There had been the soldiers that had come with the noble, those that had survived, anyway. Not to mention that some of the miners in the Bone Pit had also been hiding deep in the mines and come out at the sound of battle.

And while the word of an employee of Garrett's might be questioned, there had been the two young boys out playing in the area. Not to mention the survivors of a previously attacked trading caravan, and the young couple that been out for a picnic. _All_ had been drawn to the sound of the battle, and been peering at it from their hiding spots.

And so, the tale had spread like wildfire, a story full of magic, dragons and flashing swords, even a faithful Mabari, all teeth and loyalty.

It had been enough to make the idolisation of Hawke from the battle with the Arishok – which had naturally waned as the normal drudge of work came back – to come back tenfold, even to the point of _Varric_ finding it a bit much.

Of course, such a tale, full of eyewitnesses, meant that it was more or less confirmed that Garrett's _wife_ was a mage...an _apostate_. Yet Meredith had not taken action, much to the amusement of the commoners, who, holding Garrett in such high regard, were likely the _reason_ for the Knight-Commander not acting...she'd not forgotten Garrett's threats, it seemed. In essence, his victory over the dragon had not only been a political gain for him and a great boon for mages and their reputation...but it had been a great blow to Meredith's authority in the city...and the man hadn't even planned any of it.

_Not that Garrett's noticing_. Varric chuckled at the thought, he hadn't seen the man since his return from the battle, rumour had it he was injured and was recovering, or that he was drinking the dragon's blood with the Arishok's skull as a cup or a hundred different things. Varric had seen the man when entering the city though, and he hadn't looked hurt, nor was the man one to drink blood or do any of the crazy things people, Varric included, had claimed he might be doing.

So in the end, Varric had decided to go see for himself.

Ahead, the doors to the estate opened before him without question, the guard holding it open grinning wide. "Good morning, Serah!"

"Ben, Ben, it's Varric to you." Varric strode on, smile wide. "How's the wife? Did she like that necklace?"

"Sure, thank you...was _almost_ enough to make her forgive me for being ambushed by a dragon."

Varric chuckled, striding into the hallway, staunchly ignoring the elf there glaring at the coat the dwarf, as always, refused to be parted with. _No one puts this thing on a hanger but me, buddy_..._besides, exposing this chest to the public would cause riots_. "I'll go for something with a diamond in it next time then, though given what she's like, I bet she'll never be satisfied."

Behind him, he could feel the guard's grimace. "Tell me about it..."

Still chuckling, Varric strode on...only to grimace at the sight in the main hall. _Oh boy, bet this'll be fun_..._blondie's at it again_.

Varric liked Anders, even respected him. The human was a man of principles and kindness, a healer, generous with his aid and selfless in his devotion to his causes. But he was also getting more and more frightening per day with his anti-templar mood growing and his sense of humour and humanity seemingly fading...worst thing was that none but Varric seemed to really notice, the others either caught up in their own dealings or just too used to Anders' behaviour to notice the subtly growing extremism.

As such, it was with mixed emotions that Varric put on a smile and walked across the hall towards Anders, ready to greet him...and not a bit surprised when the mage, not noticing him, made a greeting impossible by raising his voice at the elf servant before him. "What do you mean, occupied!? I already told you, I have a meeting scheduled with him!"

"I...don't believe you do, Serah." The elf replied, arching an eyebrow and looking a little tired.

Sighing, the mage moved a hand up to rub his eyelids, his frustration palpable. "Nooo...but I did, _two days ago_, and he wasn't available then!"

_Time to jump in_. "Oh? Isn't Hawke taking visitors? What about the handsome dwarven kind?" Smiling at the two men now turning to look at him, Varric continued. "Where is the famed sod anyway? I've missed him, we've had too many a drink in his honour in the Hanged Man without him attending...that's rude, you know." Anders rolled his eyes at the words, leaving Varric to look to the other man. "And hello, Fenn, nice to see you."

Inclining his head in a bow, the elf offered a polite smile. "Serah Tethras...I'm afraid my lord Hawke is not taking visitors at the time...he's..." Fenn's eyes shifted back and forth. "...busy."

Varric arched an amused eyebrow even as Anders growled, hands bawled into fists. "That's what you told me _last_ time!"

"And he's _still_...busy." Fenn breathed back, the elf seemingly struggling to remain stoic.

_I wonder_... Varric smirked. "Busy with the same thing since two days past...?" Fenn shot him a wide-eyed look, making the dwarf's smirk widen. "...or the same _person_?"

To his credit, Fenn barely blushed at all as he straightened, hands behind his back. "As I said, Serah, he's busy, as with _what_, that's none of your business."

Chuckling, Varric put a hand on Anders' back. "Thank you, Fenn, and don't worry, you've done your duty...tell them I came bye to said 'hi'...whenever they come out." Looking over to the glowering Anders, Varric pushed into the mage's back. "Come on, buddy, let's go get you a drink, I think."

Grumbling, Anders allowed himself to be lead out, both him and the dwarf expertly ignoring the elf near the door glaring at their respective coats. Shaking his head as they reached the doorway, the scarred mage barely muttered his words. "I don't understand that man...so reasonable, so intelligent, yet when it comes to Merrill he's like a dog in heat once his blood is up."

_I'd like to see you say that to his face_. Varric doubted the man would though, it wasn't hard to see that the man had been carefully cultivating his relationship with the noble as of late. "Well love doesn't have to make sense, Anders, and clearly, those two are just...made for a stormy relationship. Guess that's part of their problem, actually, they're both so intelligent and used to the intellectual side of things that they can't handle all these emotions and crap that come up...hence all this drama back and forth." Varric shrugged as Anders shot him a incredulous look. "What? I know love all too well, friend. Bianca and I have gone through it all..."

Sighing, the mage looked away. "If you say so...it's just frustrating to know the man is ignoring his duties."

"Well to be fair, I think it wise to lay low right now for him, popularity or not." Varric shrugged, besides, he was well aware that Garrett's political machinery was working adequately since he'd entered the city, which meant Anders' protest was merely aimed at things outside the running of the city. "What did you want to talk to him about anyway?" The moment the question left his lips, Varric regretted it. _Crap_..._me and my big mouth_.

"I need to speak to him about Meredith."_ Oooof course_. "He's promised aid, and to rein her in, but just a few days ago she made a dozen mages Tranquil right in the docks, with barely a trial or a chance to say goodbye to their loved ones!"

"Oh yeah, I heard about that." Varric grimaced, hesitated, then decided to take the Qunari by the horns. "Wasn't that mages from the tower though? Who broke out and nearly escaped?"

"Yes..." Anders hissed, eyes narrowed as he stared right ahead. "...and however loathsome she is, I would have understood punishing them...but making them tranquil like that...the woman has no soul."

"Well pardon me asking...but didn't you _know_ that escape attempts were punishable by this? Because I'm guessing you had a big hand in this escape attempt?" Varric asked, curious to get a feel of Anders' mood.

To his surprise, there was not a _hint_ of guilt in the mage's face. "Of course I did! Freedom is worth any risk! _Especially_, as Orsino puts it, under the current regime in the Circle." He shot Varric a glance, then snorted and looked away. "You wouldn't understand..."

"I have a very active imagination." Varric replied with a snort, he loathed people claiming one 'couldn't understand'. _People have too little faith in that little thing called empathy_. "And what, you agree with Orsino now? So if there was a change of leadership in the Circle to...I don't know, that friendly chap, Cullen? Would you then not mind things there so much?"

"Of course I'd mind it!" Anders snorted, eyes boring into the ground before him as they walked down the garden path towards the exit. "A kind tyrant is still a tyrant, and a prison with gentle guards is still a prison." A deep breath, the rumble within the mage's chest a deep growl. "It's not _right_, it's not _just_, it's _not_ _acceptable_."

"Well...here's hoping Garrett can help you...once he's done within Merrill." Varric dutifully patted Anders' back, trying not to think about how furious Anders sounded. "Let's go and get you a drink."

Anders hesitated. "...you meant _with_ Merrill, right?"

"You heard me."

8

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8

Cullen blinked at the sight, slowing down as he manoeuvred around a table taken by six Rivaini women giving him looks he was far from used to and not _at all_ comfortable with. _I've been in the tower and keep too much_..._Maker, why is that woman licking her lips_?!

Still, he had a job to do, and it was far too easy to move his gaze from the women eyeing him like a piece of meat to the man over at the bar. Striding over there, Cullen stopped himself from placing a hand on the other templar's shoulder, knowing fully well how dangerous the other man was and what a fuse he could sometimes have. Instead, he sat himself down next to him, elbows on the counter as he ignored the barkeep's questioning looks.

Silence reigned between them.

Neither really capable or _willing_ to speak about anything outside work with one another.

Sighing, Cullen began. "Knight-Captain Carver...I'm surprised to find you here. The Blooming Rose isn't exactly a place befitting a man of your station."

"They have good w-wine." Was the grunted reply. Carver's face was a grim mask, staring straight ahead as he shrugged. "Not that celibacy is required of us or anything but..." The words petered out, the man's sigh long and slow. "They just have good wine."

Silence once again descended on them.

_Oookay_..._trying_ _again_. "So, why are you here, Captain? Meredith sent me out to look for you, she has work for you." _Though judging by your smell, I'll have to do that_..._best get you home though_.

"D-Don't feel like it today." Carver grunted, raising an empty glass to his mouth before grimacing, slamming it back onto the counter. "Barkeep! Another round!"

The barkeep approached, hesitant look on his face as he eyed the stinking templar, then turned a questioning look to Cullen...who shrugged and gestured for the man to get on with it, there was no point turning Carver hostile.

As the barkeep began to fill the glass, Carver brooded, staring at the goblet. Only once it was filled did he speak again. "A _high_ dragon."

_Ah_. "Yes, it's...quite the talk of the town." Cullen grimaced, there was no way the conversation would go well.

"Not a dragonling, not a wyvern, not a drake or even dragon...a _high_ _dragon_." Carver hissed, shaking his head with a sneer. "We faced one in Ferelden, you know, he shook in his boots then, _terrified_ of it." _Well I would be too_... "How did he go from _that_ to slaying one in personal combat!?" A grimace of disgust. "Oh, I'm sorry, he and his _beautiful elven wife_ did..."

Cullen, taking a deep breath, remained silent.

"...and publicly a mage as well! An apostate and _no one_ reacts!? They even hail her as a hero!?" Carver was shaking, breathing heavily in anger. "Why aren't we..._doing_ _something_!?" He shook his head, gritting his teeth. "And she...they...right there...an apostate _and_ a whore..."

Cullen blinked, confused. "Erm...I'm pretty sure she's his _wife_, brother, what are you talking about?"

"Nothing." Carver snapped, eyes bitter as he stared into the glass he held in his hands. "She's j-just...I get so..." He took a long drink from his glass, when he put it down, he looked calmer, _scarier_. "...nothing."

"I...see." Confused, but deciding to drop the subject, Cullen shrugged. "Anyway...yes, I can see how this is all frustrating, I too find it a little annoying how Garrett killing a dragon has somehow made _us_ unpopular. It's not fair."

"Yeah, not fair..." Carver nodded. "Why is _he_ getting everything? All the glory. All the money. All the..._everything_!" A grunt. "Did you hear he had the dragon cut up and served in the docks to people!? I...it's just _repugnant_, morally wrong..."

Cullen grimaced. "Well...it _is_ an animal."_ And feeding the poor with something so exotic got him even more popular_..._Maker, we ought to promote the Chantry doing that again, both we and the poor could use it_. "I'm sure they took out the dead people and buried them first."

"He's just...exploiting everything, _everyone_, he touches for power..." Carver growled. "He farmed the entire thing, like a swarm of locusts...did you know that?"

_Who_ _wouldn't_? _A high dragon's scales and bones are worth a fortune_. Cullen grimaced though, tired as he remembered the recent package that had arrived at Meredith's office. "I'm aware, yes. He sent part of it to Meredith, you know? A sword of _dragonbone_...worth a fortune."

"Yeah, the nerve...Meredith was furious, and _rightly_ so." Carver sighed, swinging back and forth in her seat. "He's rubbing in what he did and with whom in _our faces_!"

"A...little, yes." Cullen sighed. He'd tried pointing out what a grand gift it was and that _perhaps_ it was a gesture of friendship to be embraced...but in the end it was hard not to see the gesture for what it was, a signal that the man was capable of protecting the city on his own and that he could do what he wanted, _with_ whoever he wanted. "I'm amazed Meredith kept it though, she looked so angry about it...yet I admit, she has a point, a tool like that _should_ be used in the hands of the Maker's servants." _As to what that use is, we can always disagree_...

"She's admirable, yes..." Carver nodded, then growled. "...best way to handle it, show that ass we don't take his shit." A pause, Carver looking thoughtful, then angry once more. "She should use it to beat the hell out of that 'champion' and then-"

"Oookay, time to go, buddy." Cullen, gripping Carver by the arm, hoisted the man to his feet even as he looked about, suddenly realising those who sat closest to them had not only been listening in, but as Carver spoke the last words, they were looking _increasingly_ hostile.

Two stools away, a young little elf girl glared at the two templars, thin hand white as she gripped her glass tightly, seemingly ready to throw it at them.

"Wh-what?" Carver shook his head, confused, but too drunk to properly protest by now, his weight bearing down on Cullen's shoulders. "But I wasn't finished...?"

At the other side of the counter, the barkeep muttered something under his beard, closed fists resting on the bar, eyes on Carver.

"Yeah, well, we have some stuff in the keep you ought to try." _It's called a bed and a glass of water_. "You can tell me all about how good you've gotten with your sword on the way." Given the way his brother was staggering, Cullen guessed his implication of the man being dangerous wouldn't have much effect on those around them, but anything was better than nothing.

As they moved towards the exit, someone spat at their feet. Fortunately, Carver didn't notice. Nor did he notice the human sitting in a corner with a half-naked woman in his lap, both having gone still in their cuddling as they with cold eyes watched the two templars move.

The hostility, like a slowly growing fire, was spreading throughout the bar.

It was a relief getting out, making Cullen breathe a little easier. _Too close_...

Then Carver doubled over and dry-heaved.

"Right..." Sighing, Cullen helped the man to straighten once he'd finished. "...time to get you home."

"I...I hate him, you know...? I truly do."

"I know, brother."

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for being so patient with me._


	81. Chapter 81

"Captain, that drunk down the docks-"

"_That_ drunk? There's a good hundred down there." Aveline grunted, marching into the barracks, her head throbbing after yet another argument with Meredith about jurisdictions. _You can't send half of Darktown to __my__ jail so you can interrogate them to find apostates_! The thought was enough to make a new pain jolt up her temples. Rubbing them, Aveline shook her head. "Where's Donnic?"_ I could do with his massage_...

"He's at the north gate, Captain, you ordered him there to make sure the latest trade-caravan got in safely." The blond woman before Aveline was short, and looked tired. In fact, _all_ the guards looked tired. _No surprise, our pay comes from Hawke's good will after Meredith took over. We're arguing with templars as much as dealing with a public where unemployment and homelessness has spiked since the Arishok's attack_..._heroes, the lot of you_.

Aveline found herself smiling at the woman, Gabrielle, patting her shoulder and making the blond blush. _Still with the crush_? _Jeez_... "Oh right, thank you, forgot about that. Now, _what_ drunk?"

"The one that likes walking on roofs naked? And hanging from them when he slips?" Gabrielle answered, walking with Aveline deeper into the barrack. Within, there was a tired atmosphere as what few guards with enough time to sit down were having dinner along a long table, none having enough energy to notice the Captain passing._ I'll let them off, poor sods_..._hopefully Garrett will agree to let me hire more hands_..._again_... Aveline grimaced, she didn't like being dependant on the man, she was essentially in his pocket, however much she liked to claim independence and however much the man seemed to try and respect that.

"Ah, yes, the 'little dangler'." Aveline shared a chuckle with Gabrielle. "What about him?"

"He...erm...fell from a low wall."

"So? Is he hurt?" Aveline arched an eyebrow.

"Well, yeah, but he fell with one leg on each side of the wall and...erm...I'm not sure how to _handle it_." Gabrielle blushed furiously.

_I'm sure you don't_..._eugh, Isabela is a bad influence on me_. "Bring him to a healer and have _them_ handle it?" Aveline rolled her eyes. "And I'd _hurry_, testicular damage can be pretty acute."

"Ohhh..." Gabrielle's eyes widened. "...going, going!" Turning, she began to run, making Aveline shake her head. _Poor dangler_...

With that, Aveline quietly snuck past her fellow guardsmen, not really willing to answer more questions or deal with any of the little decisions some always came to her with. Hanging up her cloak, the rain was pouring down outside, on a hook, she swiftly moved for the door to her office grumbling about the dampness of her uniform._ Need to get a new cloak, bloody mugger and his stupid knife_... The thought made Aveline smile though. _Didn't expect to be robbing the captain of the guard though, nor breaking your jaw and finding yourself in the dungeon_.

Inside, her office was dark, despite the light from a window pouring into it, illuminating the beautiful carpet in the centre of the room, but little else. _Stupid clouds_. Grunting, Aveline moved for the unlit oil-lamp hanging in the distance, weary eyes drawing across her large desk to her left, the many papers and scrolls strewn across it promising hours of work. _I guess I should_..._wait_...

Stopping, Aveline turned, her throat tight in surprise and fright at the sudden feeling of a foreign presence in her private area.

In the corner, near her closed door, the man covered from head to toe in a dark cloak was barely visible. What little shown of the face was pale white and covered in a frightening web of scars, pale blue eyes nearly glowing as they stared at the woman with a hint of hostility. With his hands lost in the sleeves of his robe, the man looked like some dark priest at prayer.

Aveline's shoulders slumped in relief, her head rolling back with a sigh, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment over her fright."Oh Maker...bloody hell, Anders, you scared me!" She straightened, glaring at the man. "And you shouldn't be here either, what the hell's wrong with you!?" A shake of her head. "And how did you even get in here!? No one would have let you in here...and how did you avoid the rain? You're as dry as overcooked nug-meat."

Anders let a tired chuckle escape. "I got in here without being stopped thanks to Hawke...how did you think he got into the Kirkwall keep back when we fought the Arishok? There's paths not even the great Aveline Vallen knows about."

Aveline narrowed her eyes at the man. "Paths? Or tunnels?" Her gaze swept over her room, eyeing bookshelves and walls with suspicion. "You need to show me this, you _will_ show me this." _This is __my__ place, damn it_!_ I can't believe Garrett hasn't told me about this_.

An amused hum escaped Anders at that, but no agreement._ Eugh, if I have to ask Hawke about this_... "And nothing's wrong with me, I needed to talk to you in private, and it's hard to get a hold of you without using Hawke as a mediator."

"And why do you think that is?" Aveline asked sharply, annoyed with the man's insistent demands, as if he was _entitled_ to her attention and help. "Anders, let me make this clear. I respect Hawke enough to treat you with politeness. I respect _you_ for your continued helping of Fereldians in the city and for holding such high ideals. I think you are a _good man_."

Under the hood, Ander's scared face broke into a toothy grin. "Why thank you, that's very nice-"

"_But_." Aveline interrupted, raising a finger "You are, when it comes down to it, a _criminal_." Anders' grin died. "Your high ideals are mixed with an extremism and lack of will to compromise I find frightening and foolish in equal measure. The only reason I don't take you in is because I respect Hawke's will of me not to do so, and because you're technically the templar's jurisdiction and I'm loathe to help them." She moved to her desk, gaze moving to her papers, wondering if the mage had been riffling through them before she'd entered. "You are _dangerous, _and only by being more of an aid to the city than a hindrance, do I tolerate you."

"You think I should compromise on my ideals?" Anders asked, his voice surprisingly soft.

"I think you should do as Hawke, and compromise in an effort to _achieve_ your ideals." Aveline grunted back. "Of course, you won't do that, that creature in you won't _let_ you be smart about these things, it seems."

"I shouldn't _have_ to be smart about doing what's right."

Aveline rolled her eyes, how Garrett endured speaking to Anders for more than five minutes was beyond her. "Sure, you _shouldn't_. Now, here in the_ real world_ though, you do."

Anders took a step forward, eyes intense under his hood. "So you do agree then? The world needs to change, the mages be freed!?" 

Aveline groaned. "_Fiiine_, yes, yes I do, I guess." She shook her head at the eager-looking mage. "Doesn't mean I'm in favour of some anarchy where mages get to do as they please with their magic with no supervision though. I _am_ a representative of the law after all, and know how such a thing would end." Ander's eagerness waned somewhat. "We've been over this already anyway, you know I'm more or less in Garrett's camp." _Though I think he's a bit too lenient_. "I don't see what your problem is."

"My _problem_!?" Anders gasped, taking a step back and shaking his head. "My problem is the slavery, torture and imprisonment of all mages of _Thedas_! My problem is that even _here_, with so many powerful figures favouring more leniency towards mages, none are_ doing anything_!" His hands still lost in the sleeves of his robe, the man was still visibly clenching his fists in rage.

Aveline, unimpressed by the outburst, cocked an eyebrow. "If you're going to start shouting at me, you might as well leave. The way you came, if you please."

"Oh you'd like that, wouldn't you?" Anders snorted, shaking his head. "Let me help out when needed, but otherwise I should be quiet and let my people suffer."

"I don't think I've _ever_ been around a quiet you." Aveline retorted with a shrug. "And _your_ people? What are you, their messiah now? Do you speak for them all now?"

"I'm the only voice they _have_." Anders growled back, shaking his head. "Or do you think that groveling Orsino is helping them? All he serves is his own interests."

"Fine, fine..." Aveline sighed, rubbing her eyes. "Then what do you want us to do, exactly? Storm the Templar's keep and butcher them all and maybe put their heads on pikes and parade them all the way to Val Royaux and the Divine? Maybe set the entire Circle tower on fire and dance naked around it while we're at it?"

Not dissuaded by Aveline's tone, Anders reply was sharp. "I want you all to wake up and _act_!"

"Act...how? You want action, I know, but _what_ action?" Aveline raised a hand, stopping the mage. "Actually, don't answer that, I know what you'll say and I'd hate to arrest you on charges of threatening with genocide or whatever one should call it. As Hawke says, compromise and negotiations-"

"Compromise, compromise, compromise...that's all you two ever speak of!" Anders snapped, walking back and forth in the office with narrowed eyes. "There shouldn't _be_ a compromise! Worse, Meredith won't allow it, the Divine won't allow it, the _Chantry_ won't allow it. And while you speak of something that can't be done, my people _suffer_!"

"Well I'm sorry if we prefer a solution where blood isn't running down the streets." Aveline snapped back, shaking her head as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Some of us use our _reason_."

"Reason won't free my people or stop those templars that have _none_!" Anders growled, stepping closer, eyes ablaze with rage.

Aveline cocked an eyebrow at the man. "Because you seem to have so much right now...?"

"Oh that's nice, question my reason and sanity, the last argument out there. If someone's arguments can't be countered, call him insane." Anders snarled, face an ugly grimace. _You had an argument_...? "But of course, why wouldn't you? You're the city guard, obeying laws written by Chantry-idolizing fools, constantly hunting apostates only trying to scratch a living, practically in Meredith's pocket, as far as I'm concerned."

Aveline, glaring back, shook her head. "Don't be an idiot, I've been very clear on the guard's stance on mages and the law, in fact, I've been more on your side than against it. And insinuating I'm in Meredith's pocket is insane, she and I loathe one another."

"Oh, so now I'm insane _and_ an idiot?" Anders snapped back, making Aveline groan aloud. "Well I'll tell you what, there _will_ be blood by the end of this! There can't _be_ reasoning or compromise between the slave and the slaver, no matter what you _or_ Hawke thinks! The war is inevitable, and the sooner it starts, the sooner the bonds of my people can be cut and they'll be freed!"

Aveline, glaring back at the man, felt her patience run out. "Get out, I don't want to see you here again, or _anywhere_ else. I will not tolerate such talk around me, there's been enough death and suffering in Kirkwall. There won't _be_ a revolution, we won't allow it, accept that and try to work with us instead of against us."

Anders, blue eyes glittering as he glared back, snarled back. "Oh yes, there _will_ be..."

That's when he punched Aveline in the stomach.

The woman hadn't been prepared, but Anders, while battle-hardened, was no warrior, and Aveline having taken more blows than she should during sparing and in combat, merely grunted in annoyance as she looked at the mage's ugly face. "What the hell do you think you're do...ing...?"

She blinked and took a step back, her legs bumping into her desk even as she looked down.

The dagger in Anders' hand was sliding out of her stomach, the blade long and broad, the burning emblem of Andraste on the hilt, now partially covered in the guard-captain's blood. Her hands, shaking, moved to the wound, only to come away, fingers covered in blood. _What in_..._why_...? She looked up at Anders, staring at him, horrified, a coldness setting into her limbs.

The man wore a grim look on his face, without a hint of sympathy or regret. "Yes, you've been against the Templars, almost as much as you've been against my people. There can be no neutral sides though, you're either _with_ us, or _against_ us." He spat at the little space between them, snarling at her. "And you're wrong, there won't _be_ a compromise, there will be _war_. A Captain of the guard, dead..." The man raised his dagger, holding it up to her to see the fine craftsmanship stained with her blood. "...a templar blade killing a woman always at odds with the Knight-Commander, yet also arresting apostates will be but the first step. Accusations and suspicions will come down like a rain over Kirkwall, washing away the ragged remains of your efforts for _peace_."

Slowly turning her head, Aveline stared at the distant door, mouth opening in a scream, yet no words coming. _They're just at the other side, I must_..._why can't I_..._speak_!?

As if reading her mind, Anders snorted. "Terrifying, isn't it? Templar poison, making it impossible to speak or even move properly...to make sure mages do not sell their souls to demons or cast spells." A low growl, and Aveline doubled over again, feeling sharp pain lace up her spine as the blade once more entered her abdomen. "A cruel poison indeed...the templars truly are monsters."

_And you_..._you're_..._no_ _better_. Aveline, her arms like lead weights, rose and pushed the mage aside, her vision dim as she pressed herself away from the desk and towards the door.

A single step, and she dropped onto one knee, white lights and dark spots dancing before her vision, her whole body numb. _Must_..._we've_ _got_..._healers_ _who_... She grasped the dagger stuck in her, trying to pull it out, only for her hands to slip on the handle slick with her blood. _Donnic_, _I_ _need_...

Something pressed against her shoulder, and Aveline fell, rolling onto her back with a sigh, her lungs refusing to draw more air.

Above her, Anders towered over her, eyes cold, voice a deep growl, not the man's own. _Justice_..._no_..._hate, Vengeance_. "War will come. It will be glorious, justice will be served to all, you should feel _honoured_ to be part of that."

_Donnic_..._I_ _want_..._I_ _want_ _to_... Aveline, blinking, found tears trickling down the side of her face, her vision blurring as she yet again struggled to reach the blade lodged inside of her. _This is madness_..._madness_...

"Your sacrifice will not be forgotten, thank you."

_Fuck_..._you_..

A whimper, and Aveline's hands fell limp to her sides.

_Donnic_...

Darkness took her.

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson, for all the fight left in her._


	82. Chapter 82

Garrett didn't stand at the front.

It was unfamiliar for him, not leading from the front, uncomfortable.

Yet it was required this time, required but heart-rending.

Instead, _Donnic_ was the one at the front, the man dressed in sombre black like everyone else. The man's shoulders stiff, his back straight and proud...and everything about him screaming agony.

Garrett could not blame him, the death of Aveline had been unexpected, horrible, and devastated most of them.

So now they stood in the Kirkwall Chantry. To hold a funeral in the large structure had required a few owed favours and even the odd bribe...but Aveline was worth it.

_Still can't believe she's gone_.

The Chantry was beautiful and vast, the high-arching ceiling covered in amazing murals and painted windows that would usually have let in a rainbow of colours, but now remained dark, like leering creatures hiding in the alcoves above. Instead, burning censers and lamps cast a warm glow across the building, the former also filling it with a pleasant smell of something sweet. Neither the lovely smell or the warm light could chase away the aura of depression in the grand cathedral though, nor could the hymns of dozens of priests softly singing from a distance.

Garrett's mind, though dark, was grateful for all who'd come, who'd dropped everything at the unexpected news and arrived to show their respect.

The large doors at the back were closed, the red carpet leading up the central aisle flanked by dozens upon wooden benches for the worshippers. Right now though, with the ceremony almost over, they all stood, every last one in the chantry...but one.

Garrett didn't need to look back, but did, offering a pale smile to all who'd come, a smile coming out of duty more than happiness, but a smile none the less.

Every noble of Kirkwall was there, along with spouses and children. The cynical part of Garrett knew most were simply there to curry favour with him, or at least not insult him, rather than any special care for the captain of the Guard. But considering the number of troubled faces, there was also a large minority clearly grieving the loss of the capable Captain.

_A loss, yes, too great a loss_.

The thought felt dull in Garrett's mind, dutiful rather than pained...it all felt so surreal. He'd spoken with her so recently, there had been no warning, no last nice words to hold onto...just some pointless words about wages and new hirings of guards.

On the front benches, put there on Garrett's insistence, despite the many nobles there, were the officers of the Guard, all but a single one who'd lost the lot and had to stay back to keep the city in order. All were dressed in black uniforms that looked like they'd never been worn before. _The guard doesn't often stop to grieve a lost comrade, there's no time, but this one_...

Then, closer still, her friends.

Fenris, not overly grieving, but grim, glaring at the dead Captain as if she'd done something wrong.

Varric, the dwarf's coat pulled tight around him for once, as if he was cold. The man had his hands hidden in his pockets, though they were clearly outlined in them, bunched into fists as he stared at the floor, heavy-set jaw held shut and eyes wet.

Maric, at Garrett's feet, lying down, head bowed and silent.

Anders, the mage's black cloak fitting well among the others without a change, looking like a brooding crow as his pale gaze alternated between Aveline and Donnic. The mage looked...angry, angry and sad. He did offer a Garrett a look though, offering a pale smile of reassurance. _Thank you_. Garrett offered a nod back, gaze sweeping on.

Isabela, so different from before. Her white tunic exchanged for a black dress covering her from toe to neck, she even wore a black scarf around her hair, all jewellery gone. The stark change made her look...smaller. She hadn't forgotten her make up though...but perhaps she should have, Garrett grimaced in sympathy at the black tendrils trailing their way down the woman's face as she, weeping, stared at the fallen captain with a mixture of guilt and heart-wrenching grief.

And of course, next to him, Merrill. The elf's normally happy face was gone, no questions bubbled out of her, no words, not even tears. Instead she stood there in a black dress that made her look like Andraste herself, her small hand in his, as she stared at their friend. She looked up at his stare though, offering a sliver of a smile as she squeezed his hand, making him squeeze back. It was painful seeing her, the memories of a time not too long ago still etched in his mind and soul...yet at the same time, she was like a piece of debris in a swift-moving flood, all he could clutch onto, more precious to him than anything in the world.

_A world without Aveline_.

The thought finally did it. Swallowing, Garrett found a tear prickling his cheek, then another one as he turned to look back at who they'd come to honour. Next to him, Merrill was squeezing his hand tighter as she heard him stifle a sniffle, but he barely felt it as he looked ahead.

The casket atop the stone pedestal was nothing special, simple wood that had been polished to a shine, but hardly something fancy...Garrett had agreed with Donnic that she'd have it no other way for something that would be burnt. All the pomp and many grievers around it...she wouldn't have liked that either, but then again, it wasn't _for_ her. _Did you find yourself at the Maker's side_? _With Wesley and waiting for Donnic_? _Or did you just find peace_?

There was no answer to find in Aveline's face.

Paler than usual, the woman otherwise looked her normal self. Dressed in the old plate armour she preferred to use on patrol and combat, she looked ready to rise and fight at any moment. Her gauntleted hands clutched the grip of her sword as a shield bearing the Kirkwall city guard's heraldry, worn and torn from many an impact, lay placed atop it. It made her look like an ancient warrior-queen's tombstone.

It seemed wrong to think her fallen the way she had, killed by some assassin, probably without even a fight, without a chance to defend herself.

It _all_ felt _wrong_.

Yet there they stood.

Before the casket, Donnic finally turned, his pristine black uniform marked at the shoulder by a white stripe, the stripe of the new captain, something Garrett knew the man loathed...but the guard had picked him, there was no going back. _I_..._should speak with him when this is over_... Garrett brushed the thought aside, politics could wait, for Aveline's sake.

Donnic, chin held high, pulled a paper from his pocket, staring straight ahead as the hymns filling the chamber slowly ebbed out.

His words, meant to be spoken with a hard voice, immediately stuttered. "O-our beloved Ca-Captain is...g-gone." A deep breath, the man's eyes darting down to the paper, blinking furiously as the paper bent, a tear having struck the corner. "Sh-she wa-was an in...inspiration to us all, an e-example to...to look u-up to and to ch-che..." The man's head dropped, a despairing sniffle escaping him as the audience looked on in painful silence. His voice was but a whisper, inaudible for all but those in the front. "Cherished."

In the great chantry, one could have heard a pin drop.

Dropping the paper, unable to finish the speech, the crying man raised his head, voice pained gasp. "Who will help me carry her?"

The pyre for Aveline had been set up far away, down in Lowtown's market where the old Captain had spent so much of her days doing justice, and the woman in armour would be heavy...yet there was no problem finding volunteers.

Garrett, having stepped forward automatically, moved towards the chest, barely aware of the others.

Isabela, still silently weeping.

Merrill, still squeezing his hand, pain written all over her face.

Varric, hands finally out of his pockets, head still downcast, unable to look at the woman he was there to honour.

Anders, scar-ridden face full of sympathy, always ready to help.

Moving to flank the chest, three on the left and three on the right, they helped Donnic raise the chest up onto their shoulders from its pedestal as the hymns once more filled the chamber.

Slowly, carefully, the group began to move down the aisle towards the doors ahead, letting all they passed get a glimpse of the woman before she would be turned to ash.

As they walked, Anders', just behind Garrett, muttered in anger. "No Templar coming to honour the beloved Captain?"

"Cullen wanted to come, but I told him it might be...imprudent." Garrett replied with a frown, he didn't want to think about the whole mess surrounding Aveline's death. Garrett didn't know how, but the nature of the weapon found in the Captain's body had escaped to the public and people already upset with the templars had another reason to get angry with them. There had even been a few riots and two dead templars as a result.

"I guess, the killer coming to the victim's funeral _would_ be imprudent." Anders fumed back, making Garrett grimace. _It's just_..._underhanded and disgusting_..._but_..._Meredith_? _Sending assassins_? He couldn't see it.

Donnic seemed to have the same idea, his sigh full of grief, yet also tired. "Templar knives are forged by the thousands, it doesn't mean it was a templar. Plenty had motive to kill her..." He took a slow breath, obviously struggling with the weight of his grief. "I _will_ find who did this though, and I will..." Another long breath, a sniffle following as the man forced himself to continue. "...bring them to justice, as she would have wanted."

Ahead, the double doors were opening, revealing a dark and cloudy sky promising rain in but a few hours. Meanwhile, Isabela's voice was a pained whisper. "If I find them first, there will also be justice, but of a different kind..."

Reaching the doorway, and therefore the top of the stairs leading down to the large plaza before the Chantry, Garrett found himself rendered breathless, despite having expected something like it.

The Guard was out in strength, two long lines of men and women clad in worn and dented armour polished to a mirror shine, facing inwards at the corridor they'd opened for their Captain and those carrying her. The moment the coffin began to descend the stairs, someone shouted out an order. "Present arms!" As one, the guards drew their blades and held them high, forming a ceiling of protecting swords to shield their Captain on her last trip to Lowtown.

And outside that guard-created corridor a mass of dark-clothed commoners stood. Many might have had reason to curse the Captain, but they often had more reason to praise her and remember her fondly as a protector and bringer of lawfulness into a city of crime. Most stared at the dead woman with genuine sorrow at the loss of her...and equally many, with anger.

It was heart-warming and terrifying in the same time.

And behind Garrett, Anders' voice was but a whisper. "As long as Justice is served..."

Feeling the weight of the casket bear down on him, Garrett nodded._ Agreed_.

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Garrett looked good, and he knew it.

There was no doubt he was idolized among the people, between the Arishok, his work on the city afterwards and the High Dragon, there were a lot who even called him their 'white knight', or so Varric said.

Garrett, knowing just what a vital tool that was in putting Meredith in a difficult position, had capitalized on it. The horse he rode was white, its coat shining with health. His armour, from helmet to boots, was glowing white, the dragonbone from the creature he'd slain just recently finished by a master smith so eager to work the material he'd barely charged for the work. It looked more like metal than bone after all the work put into it, and polished to a shine, it made him feel invulnerable.

_Aveline seemed invulnerable too_.

It was a sobering thought, and one drawing his mind back to his dead friend, turning his face into a grim mask.

His look was not enough to deter the people he rode past though, everywhere commoners stopped and stared, most even bowing their heads or even kneeling.

_A Viscount in all but name_.

Garrett drew strength from that. Aveline might be dead, his companions grieving, _him_ grieving...but he had a duty too, a _goal_...and _nothing_ would stand in his way.

That drove him on, made him throw aside the grief in exchange for a sharp focus on the task at hand.

Ahead, the Templar Keep rose high, a towering monster of rock and mortar, surrounded by a thick and tall wall, a fortress within the city, the strongest in all of the Free Marches, some said. _Most expensive too, I'd wager_.

The bronze gate covered in runes of silverite ahead was opening at the approach of the lone rider, albeit reluctantly. The templars flanking the great gate, though standing straight and proper, eyed the man warily...there was not a few templars blaming the man for their bad reputation in the city and the treatment they therefore received from the locals.

Garrett, conscious of the many commoners staring at the scene, held his head high, ignoring the templar guards as he unhurriedly and unafraid rode through the gate, his red cloak billowing after him like a banner. Behind him, a ragged cheer rose, making him smirk. _They think me their protector, right now it's them protecting me, it feels like_..._and Meredith is the one that's afraid_...

The courtyard of the Templar Keep was large and open, a large stone stable built next to the wall on the right. To the left, a good hundred templars stood at attention in orderly lines, spears and shields resting by their feet as every detail in their equipment glinted with polish, their face-hiding helmets staring straight ahead.

Garrett, not even glancing at the show of force, dismounted, casually tossing the reins to one of the two templars approaching him, causing the man to blink in surprise. "Take care of him, I'll be back later." Ignoring the man's scathing look, Garrett brushed past, offering a hand to the next templar that was approaching. "Cullen! Good to see you."

"And you, Serah Hawke." The man replied with a careful smile, momentarily clasping Garrett's forearm as he shot the other templar now heading for the stables a look. "Shall we perhaps be off right away? The others are already here." As Garrett nodded in agreement and the two started to move at the Keep proper, the man lowered his voice a bit. "That was the master of horse, by the way...he was going to help me lead you to Meredith."

_I know, Anders knows most templars and what they do by now, he also happens to be a vehement ally of Meredith's and one with big ears and a bigger mouth_. Garrett smiled. "Well if he's the master of horse, I'm sure he can find the stables. Besides, I'm sure you are capable of leading me on your own, and I always appreciate a more private chat."

"Indeed." Cullen carefully inclined his head at the carefully chosen words, the intelligent man clearly a little wary of the noble walking next to him. Before them, the gate to the Keep itself was opening, a pair of female templars carrying halberds eyeing the oblivious Cullen even as he glanced down at Garrett's hip. "That is quite a beautiful weapon, Serah Hawke. Forged from the dragon's bones like the armour?"

"Indeed." Garrett patted the longsword with a smile. As with the armour, it was a pale white, intricate runes of silver and lyrium mixed into its hilt and blade, making it look even more pure and in keeping with his 'white knight' impression.

He had enjoyed giving Meredith her larger sword, a blade as black as midnight. A simple mental trick on the masses, but one that seemed to work...besides, making her accept such a gift from who she considered an enemy was all too much fun, and a good way of showing just _who_ was the protector of the city.

To Meredith's credit, the inside of the Templars' Keep was not a shameless show of luxury, there were no unnecessary expenditures of vanity while she ran the templars, just long halls with doors leading to various rooms with all manner of duties required of the templars to run their order. _Just a lot of expenditures __she__ deems necessary_..._necessary enough to take from others to pay for it_. As always, the thought of how much wealth the Knight-Commander had squeezed from the city made Garrett grimace in anger. He kept his tone light though. "I guess, when you say others, that _everyone's_ there?

"If you worry about First Enchanter Orsino not being present, you don't have to worry, he is." Cullen reported, smiling. "I assure you, Serah, it's all been arranged as you requested."

Garrett smiled at the man. "No doubt much thanks to you."

Cullen barely inclined his head, not about to answer such a question, even though it was fairly obvious...the man was one of the few understanding the value of diplomacy and moderation in the order, if not the entire city.

_A valuable man_... "I must thank you, Cullen, you are most helpful, both to me and to your order. I hope, with that in mind, that you won't think me presumptuous in calling you a friend?" Garrett carefully eyed the man.

To his disappointment, the pale smile of the man was polite, but evasive. "Of course, Serah, I'd like that. But, of course, my duty to the order comes first, _always_."

_Well, that's something_. Garrett nodded. "A man of principle, I like that, thank you." A slow breath escaped him, his eyes scanning the surroundings but finding nothing but the odd templar glaring at him, Garrett returned his attention to Cullen. "I too, am a man of principle...which I guess is why we're having this meeting, mine and Meredith's principles have a tendency to...cross, I suppose?"

Cullen chuckled at the understatement, but his reply was measured. "I wouldn't say that. It's more how one goes _about_ living up to those principles that causes this...friction. I'm confident that with a little talk and some way of compromising in how we go about living up to our expectations of our respective duties, things will become much clearer. "

"That makes two of us then." Garrett, sensing they were almost there, hurriedly added. "And, I hope, more?"

Turning and gripping the handle to a door, Cullen managed an awkward smile. "I've prayed for it, Serah...and I think there _might_."

With that, he opened the door and let Garrett in before he himself followed.

The room was smaller than anticipated, dominated by a long table bereft of all but a single pitcher of tin and a couple of glasses. The walls were mostly barren, the odd banner of the Templar Order hanging limply here and there.

On the right long side of the table, Orsino sat, sipping from his glass full of a red wine, eyes warily watching Meredith sitting just opposite him.

The woman, all hard edges, wore her armour for some reason. Garrett had worn his for the benefit of the people, but Meredith had no reason for hers, nor for the black weapon on her back, making Garrett arch an eyebrow at the woman as she coolly looked over his white-armoured shape.

On her right side, closer to Garrett, Carver sat, he too in armour, the classical templar armour polished to a shine and decorated with a purple cloak with a golden trim.

As Cullen moved over to Meredith's left side, the woman rose, making Orsino do the same.

Carver remained sitting, dull red eyes looking at Garrett. _Brother_..._have you been drinking_? Keeping the admonishment from slipping past his lips, Garrett moved to Orsino's left side and held out his hand, forcing himself to focus on the woman across the table. "Knight-Commander, a pleasure."

Meredith took the hand, shaking it firmly. "Champion." A pause, the woman shooting the nodding Cullen a look. "I'm...glad to have you here."

"Thank you, Meredith." Garrett managed a smile and sat down along the others. "And First Enchanter, I'm glad you could come."

"Me too." The elf grinned at Garrett, then shot Meredith a scowl. "I must admit I was _surprised_ to be offered an invitation, mages are otherwise not allowed inside this place..."

"Precautions were taken." Meredith replied, not taking her eyes off Garrett even as she tapped her armour, making the runes hidden in the black plates glitter blue. "I myself am also surprised though, I half expected you to bring that friend of yours? The Apostate known as Anders?"

"Hmmm?" Garrett smiled, not about to get into throwing verbal barbs and cause hostilities right away. "You mean that _Warden_? Well I'm sure he would have loved to attend, but I don't rightly know where he is at the moment."_ Shame I can't ask Aveline to track him down, huh_? Garrett _almost_ said it, almost sent in the jab to see how Meredith would react, almost ruined everything.

He didn't though, knowing it was pointless to start a fight over something there was no real proof of one way or the other.

Plus, his goal was to _make_ a deal, not break it, and though Aveline deserved justice, Garrett deserved a throne.

"I'm sure you don't." Meredith's smile was cool. "Nor your wife? I hear she's a lovely girl, I would have loved speaking to her. Especially after she so famously helped you defeat a dragon?"

Garrett smiled, his hands, hidden in his lap, closing into fists at the idea of what kind of 'speaking' Meredith might have had in mind. "She's very tired, I'm afraid." She _was_, actually, the fight with the dragon had taken a lot out of her, and Garrett couldn't help but feel a little worried about her. It was as if she'd lost something in that fight. "Speaking of the dragon, I'm guessing you enjoy your sword?"

Meredith, being far worse than him at concealing her feelings, openly grimaced, glancing up at the black hilt of the weapon sticking up over her shoulder. "It is...a kingly gift, Serah, thank you. It'll do much good in the order."

Realising he had just thrown out a barb he had promised himself not to, the implied threat to Merrill having been enough, Garrett quickly changed the subject. "Oh I'm sure it will, there's few I've met who are as diligent in their work as you, Commander, or who takes such a hands on approach to your duties. I respect that." It wasn't a lie, though Garrett had preferred it if the woman had been a little _less_ diligent in those areas she had no business being in.

"As I do you, Champion." Meredith admitted, leaning forward, cool eyes seeking his, measuring him as one would a foe in a duel. "I doubt there's anyone as capable as you in the city, or as...powerful." The unspoken 'dangerous' hung in the air, making the air tenser.

"Could we perhaps get down to business?" Carver snarled, the templar's gaze never having left Garrett's, flashing in anger.

"Brother, please." Garrett deigned to throw the man an irritated look, which only made him glare at him even more as Garrett turned his gaze back to Meredith. "Though I suppose he has a point...we are both busy people, are we not, Knight-Commander."

"Indeed." The woman nodded, then paused, considering her words. "I guess, given how you requested this meeting...that you tell me first what you want?"

"You are fully aware of what I want." His fingers interlocked, chin resting on them as he placed his elbows on the table, Garrett leant forward, eyes calm. "I want you to put this templar-rule to an end, allow the election of a Viscount to be held-" At that, Carver snorted, there was no doubt in anyone's mind how such an election would end. Garrett, however, ignored the man. "And let the city be run as it should be, by an administration dedicated to the management of the city, rather than the hunt for apostates and the like."

"As always, yes, those are your demands." Meredith shook her head. "But the corruption at the hands of mages run deep among the...nobility." Again, there was an unspoken word, 'you'. "As such, it would be negligent of me to surrender the management of the city to the secular powers."

"Let me be frank, with me as a Viscount, there will be _no_ worrying about corruption among the nobility." _Emptiness_, _calm_..._nothing_. Garrett's eyes flashed white with templar-power, eyes twinkling in amusement at the way the other men in the room pulled back in surprise. "I _can_ rule this city, I _am_ ruling this city, for years now, I've done it through _improvisation_...all I want is for you to recognise my rule and you'll have one less headache to deal with and can focus all your powers on what you _truly_ should be doing."

Having recovered from his shock, Carver's voice was if anything even _more_ bitter now that he realised what hidden power Garrett wielded. "What we _truly_ should be doing? You sure _you_ want that?"

Garrett refused to react to the words and held Meredith's gaze, watching her appraise him with curiosity. When she spoke, it was slowly and guardedly. "While interesting, templar powers do not make one immune to magic, hence why no mage is allowed inside this Keep. Still..." A hum escaped the woman. _Maker, she's actually considering it_...! Garrett glanced at Cullen, finding the man looking pleased at the turn of events.

As careful as her, Garrett replied. "I'm glad then, that you admire my capabilities and judgement, too. Mixed with templar powers, I must say I might be the most incorruptible secular leader you might get, maybe even one that could be of use to you...? I hear the people of Kirkwall are quite hostile, after all, that has to make your hunt for these rogue apostates more difficult..."

To the side, Carver growled something, but in Meredith's eyes, there was a light of interest._ By Andraste, I'm making progress, __finally__, progress_! She slowly nodded. "I will have to...consider this, yes."

"Thank you." Garrett smiled, though he let it die quickly. "Just don't do it for _too_ long, I've waited a long time for this." Meredith's eyes flashed with hostility, but Garrett returned a grim look, not about to be intimidated._ I bloody have_...

"As I said, I'll _consider_ it, and decide when _I'm_ ready to do so."Garrett scowled in disapproval at that, but Meredith turned her gaze, changing topic. "Now, with that out of the way, why did you bring _Orsino_ here...I can _understand_ your argumentation for reinstating a Viscount, about the law and how the secular part is not mine to rule. But _surely_ you would not be so arrogant as to tell us templars how to work with mages...not _right after_ arguing that we have no right to rule the secular world."

Garrett struggled not to grimace at the words hitting their mark so well, but answered none the less, prepared for such arguments. "I would _never_ presume to _tell_ you how to run the Circle or how to deal with mages, Knight-Commander." He hesitated, sensing Orsino tensing next to him. "I do, however, feel I can _suggest_ some things...if you'd let me?"

Meredith and Carver both snorted at the words, but the former at least nodded, albeit with her arms crossed over her chest.

"There are issues with the Circle, I know that because Orsino has told me of them, and I know he's told you of them..._publicly_ at times, even." Garrett, sensing Carver about to interrupt, continued quickly. "What I see is a failure to see the broader picture. As one leader to another, I feel compelled to advise you on certain matters in this. For one, mages are not apostates and circle mages and only that. As with my own workers, they are husbands and wives, daughters and sons, friends...whether apostate or Circle mage, they know people on the outside and are loved by them." A deep breath, Garrett steadying himself. "As such, I'd _advise_ you that beating or torturing them for information on other apostates, or making them tranquil for many offenses, is a _bad idea_. These people are not in a void and there are _consequences_ in treating them as such."

"Oh do go on, we poor templars don't know how to run a Circle, after all, only done it for a few years, surely..." Carver sneered, though Meredith remained silent, her mouth hidden behind clasped hands as she frowned at the man before her.

Ignoring the sarcasm, Garrett went on. "What I'm _saying_ is that each person made tranquil, each heavy punishment, every person returning to his dormitory with scars...is another reason for those who know them and live outside the Circle to hate you, and for those within to want to escape." He shrugged. "A more lenient hand can often do better, I feel, one catches more flies with honey, as they say."

"Oh sure, because making the Circle pleasant will make them all want to stay and for apostates to form a line outside..." Carver grunted, shaking his head.

"_Almost_." Garrett shot the man a patient look, forcing himself not to react to his brother's petulant attitude. "Mages wanting to leave the Circle do so because they _don't like it_...if you make it more pleasant, a nice place..._less_ will want to leave." He looked back to Meredith. "As for apostates...you know what lives many of them live. Dirty, on the run, hated by many they meet, always in danger, afraid. If one offers them not a blade or a whip, but a warm meal, a soft bed and a good teacher...well..."

Meredith finally spoke. "Are you done?"

Garrett hesitated, throwing Orsino a look, making the First Enchanter finally speak up. "He's quite right, Meredith. Mages are _not_ your enemy, and making them so only causes more trouble than it helps."

"Right." Meredith dropped her arms, revealing a thin line for a mouth. "Then I'll tell you now; mages are _not_ to be coddled, nor can we let our guard down by being soft and kind to them." Garrett felt his heart sink even as Orsino sighed in despair. "The Circle is not just there as a place of learning, it's for _containment_, for making the mages _strong enough_ to fight the demons in the fade, we templars are not harsh upon them simply because of what they are, there's a _purpose_ behind it, to make them _strong_."

"One does not need to beat a child to make him a strong man." Garrett replied. "Nor does a mage get strong by being abused, they get strong by their education, the abuse is pointless."

"In fact, it might even make them consider what to _use_ that strength for down the line." Orsino filled in with a growl.

Meredith's eyes widened at the words, more in rage than fear. "Are you _threatening_ me, mage?"

"I'm _educating_ you."

Suddenly leaning forward, Cullen spoke up, smile desperate and words quick. "Now, now, I'm sure there are strengths for both ways of handling the Circle. Perhaps we templars _can_ be overly zealous, yes, but in the same vein, one cannot get away from the dangers that an unsupervised mage entails."

"Indeed." Garrett nodded, glad to have something in the middle to grasp on to. "And as a secular leader, I hate to see this conflict between mages and templars spill onto _my_ streets...hence my suggestions. I want harmony and peace as much as you people, if not more, considering how _I_ end up in the crossfire."

Suddenly rising, Meredith glared down at Orsino, then fixed Garrett with a more neutral, if somewhat forced, diplomatic look. "As I said...I'll take your words on the Viscounts seat and secular autonomy under close consideration, they are...interesting to say the least." then she shot Orsino another hostile look. "As for the _other_ part...I'll try not to hold it against your first case, but I'm not convinced." As Cullen rose, the Knight-Commander shot him a glance and sighed. "Though I'll..._consider_ it, yes, your words are that worthy, at least."

Shooting the fuming Orsino a glance, Garrett struggled not to continue arguing, mages and their rights lay close to his heart after all, but in the end, what he was close to getting was too good to be true. _Take what you get, take up the next fight later down the line_. "Thank you, Meredith, I'm glad we had this talk." Ignoring Orsino's glare, Garrett too rose to his feet, offering his hand. "It gives me hope for the future."

Meredith took the offered hand, managing what actually looked like a genuine smile. "Me too, Champion, me too."

Meanwhile, Carver and Orsino remained seated, glaring at Garrett.

8

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8

_Thanks to Abydos Jackson, for being such a Goonie._


	83. Chapter 83

"You knew it would happen." 

Besides Anders' bitter whisper, the cellar full of wine-bottles and spiderwebs was silent. It was cool and damp inside, a welcome break from the broiling heat above. Anders found some satisfaction in the thought that Orsino's guards were stuck up there in a furious search for the First Enchanter.

But only some, and his lips remained a bitterly drawn line. "Hawke is to be respected, he's got more sympathy for our cause than most, but in the end he's just another noble, a normal person who doesn't understand the plight of the mages or represents them."

Before him, Orsino sat by a crudely hatched table stained by old wine-samples, head downcast, hands clenched into fists in front of him. The elf had yet to say anything about the meeting he'd gone to two weeks ago, but his stance made it all too clear what had happened.

_Yet Hawke seemed pleased_..._no fighting over Aveline then_? The lack of reaction was infuriating. For all of people's demands for justice, none but Donnic had truly searched for it, nor had the rage lasted long. _Apathetic dregs, no sense of justice, no sense of what's right_..._they should have set the city aflame in search for the guilty_!_ Not whined and then gone back to their lives_! _How can I start a war of freedom if no one cares enough to get up and fight_!? "We might still have a use for him, but if you hope that he'll just do it out of the goodness of his heart, you're mistaken." _He is all talk, not a true friend of the mages_. Anders' mouth crinkled in disgust, knowing he would have to continue his charade of friendliness with the noble if he was to make use of him._ Wasn't I once friends with him_? The thought made him frown, it was hard to remember, that with the injustices of the world filling his mind to the brim.

A slow sigh escaped Orsino. "What can we do?" His eyes angry, the elf looked up at Anders. "I had such hopes and he...he took a 'maybe' for his own cause in exchange for an 'as likely as Tevinter converting' for our cause." The eyes swiftly turned desperate, the First Enchanter shaking his heads, clenched fists shaking. "I just...don't know what to do."

Anders, taking a step forward, put his hands down on the table, staring at the elf, making him look back up. "Join me! The time of talk and compromise is _over_! The time of the _Circle_ is over! Our people _must_ go free and it must be _now_! Together, we can free our people, here _and_ elsewhere! We can start a revolution and _make_ people give us our rights back!"

Orsino leant back, fright in his eyes, making Anders grumble at himself as he realised the glow of Justice had shone through his eyes as he'd spoken. _Calm, Justice, calm_...! The spirit, within nothing but a maelstrom of anger, roared back in his skull. Before him, Orsino, unaware of Anders' internal struggle, shook his head. "I cannot believe that, I _must_ not belive that." Biting his lower lips, giving Anders a nervous look, the elf continued. "I've said it before, and I'll say it again...the _Circle_ isn't bad, it's _not_...but _Meredith_...her rules...her beliefs..." The elf trailed off, shrugging.

_The Circle isn't bad_!? _There will __always__ be a Meredith_! _There will always be an injustice in the Circle_! _It's how it's designed, it's how the Chantry's designed_! _It's how the world view us_! Anders didn't say it, his chest shaking within his robes in an effort to hold it back. Instead, he clamped down on the words of the righteous. _We must be smart, Justice, cunning_... "Very well, I can respect your position, and I'm sure you speak for all those within your Circle."_ Filthy cooperator_..._you want your fine position to remain, you're coddled by the templars in comparison to the others_. Anders grit his teeth. "You want to stay in a _good_ Circle, then it's my _duty_ to help you achieve that. Now...how do we do that? All Meredith seems to bend to is when she's forced."

As expected, Orsino bit on the bait laid out. "Then we _force_ her." Anders, feigning surprise at the 'radical' idea, listened intently to the words of the mage. "Listen, I know Meredith by now, I know what makes her _tick_. Once, we had a doorway in a cellar collapse, locking a mage inside the chamber...the Commander was _livid_. Not because the mage might be hurt or such, but because during the time it took to dig him out, there was no controlling him, no knowing what he was doing." Orsino smiled. "She _hates_ being out of control, she _fears_ it, she views it as her sacred duty to be in control and ready to intervene at _all_ times...lest those in her charge turning into raving blood mages the moment she closes her eyes."

Both mages chuckled at the ludicrous idea. _Templars_..._idiots, the lot of them_. Anders, already having gotten a sense of this after his many struggles with the Templars during his attempts to free mages, nodded. "Ah, hence the Templar Keep being far away from the Circle tower? Hence the many protective runes she wears? She fears blood magic and its ability to control others?"

"Hence..." Orsino leant forward, eyes glittering. "...the lowering of guards within the Circle tower." He smiled at Anders' raised eyebrows. "Didn't know that, did you? Oh yes, they've been reduced, now they're in large groups in vital positions, some patrolling...gone are the day of them patrolling in pairs or alone, for that would make them vulnerable. And yes, there's fewer of them now, as few as possible must be 'exposed' to us mages...and they will then be thoroughly checked for the corruption of blood-magic."

"Sounds very safe and to ensure the templars remain loyal and strong..." Anders replied with a little smile, mind working fast. "...yet vulnerable."

"Indeed." Orsino's smile was pale, afraid, yet _driven_. "We could..._could_...take over the tower." The man glanced left and right after the words had left his mouth, as if afraid Meredith would spring out of thin air at the heretical words. "If...if we hold it, if we deny her _access_...it would drive her _mad_...her need to control is so great, she'd have no choice to comply to our demands so she can once more come into control of the tower."

Anders, liking where the man was going, kept his smile curt. "And if she goes mad and instead of complying, storms the tower?"

"Y-yes, there is that." Orsino, pale, swallowed, but his gaze didn't leave Anders'. "We'd need _help_, something to ensure she wouldn't _dare_ to do so, something that would force her to come to discuss our terms."

"Something like Garrett and his allies." Anders noted, nodding, his face grim.

"Indeed." Orsino grimaced. "But now, with Meredith possibly going along with him...I'm not sure how we'll rouse his aid."

Anders' grim look turned into an even grimmer smile. "Oh, the last word hasn't been said there, she's yet to actually say yes to him..." 

Orsino, looking confused, frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Don't worry about it." Anders shrugged, mind already working on convincing Meredith of the need to continue as she had for so long. _Should be easy enough_... "I'm close to Garrett, let me deal with him and try to convince him to aid us. Meanwhile, however, there is the issue that Meredith is _very_ thick-headed...what if, despite being unable to conquer the tower back, she still refuses to back down? I don't think the ability to deny her is enough, we need a way to strike at her, something immediate and dangerous to _threaten_ her with."

Anders knew _exactly_ what, he had a detailed list of the Circle's stores, after all, given by a sympathiser, but he was curious whether Orsino knew._ Always better if it comes from him, making him think it's __his__ idea_... Before him, Orsino was looking suspicious, but not dismissive. "Anders...can I trust you? Just minutes ago, you wanted to start a revolution."

"And I still do." Anders didn't lie as he bowed his head. "That said...I respect your wishes, clearly, the revolution will have to start elsewhere. For now, I'm content to aid you, for I'm driven to aid _all_ mages... if you wish to remain in the tower, so be it. I'll help you make that life bearable."

"Yes, driven, I can tell..." Orsino smiled, eyeing Anders' cracked flesh, shoulders slumping. _Oh yes, you think Justice makes me simple, unable to think in several dimensions, unable to make my own decisions_..._you do not know spirits like I do. Fool, you do not know their motivations or their intelligence_. _And you don't know __me or __mine_. "...well, since your very _being_ is bent on aiding us then...there is a way. The Templars might be protected against magic, their Keep covered in runes, but we mages understand _more_ than magic...we know _alchemy_."

Anders, leaning closer, so eager he had to press down on the table to make his hands stop shaking, urged the elf on. "Go on..."

"What happens when you mix lyrium dust, fire crystals, blood lotus, a spirit chard, deathroot, dragon blood, and a dragon's _heart_ in just the right way, under alternating boiling heat and freezing cold?" Orsino asked, smile nervous but excited at the same time.

Already knowing the recipe, one of the many he'd considered, Anders still pretended to search his mind for the answer, not wanting to seem he'd already planned such a thing. "It's..._very_ difficult to create, but _very_ potent."

"And here's you, a man of dedication and skill in equal amounts." Orsino smiled, the praise no doubt intended to make Anders take upon himself to do the dangerous work of creating the explosive...as if the mage would trust Orsino with such a thing in the first place. "And to think, we _have_ dragon's blood and a heart donated to us just recently...Hawke's already helping us." Orsino laughed.

"Indeed..." Anders smiled, the fool of a First Enchanter was playing right into his hands. _There __will__ be justice_. "...and what would we threaten to use this horrifying weapon against?" _Threaten_..._no, no we're going to make Thedas burn in the fires of freedom and justice_.

"The Templar Keep." Orsino replied without a ounce of hesitation. "We show ourselves willing to hit her centre of power, ready to destroy the majority of her forces...and she _has_ to bow to our will."

_Which we don't want, no, we need this to turn into a battle_..._the sacrifice of a few mages and templars in the ensuing battle will ensure the freedom of all mages_. "And if she _doesn't_ bow to this threat?"

"Then.." Orsino visibly swallowed. "...we destroy it and escape in the chaos, too many templars will be dead or wounded to stop us."

_Again, we don't want that, no, we have to think long term_..._they need to live_..._for_ _now_. Anders chuckled."And what then, live out in the wild? You?"

"I do what I must." Orsino raised his chin at the taunt. "For my people's sake."

_No, for your own_. Disgusted, Anders none the less smiled and bowed his head."Then we are in agreement, I shall do all you ask of me, and your people shall be be safe and happy once more."

_No, they shall be __free_.

8

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_My head hurts_.

Meredith was known for her iron will, for a mind as cold as tempered steel, for being tough but fair, she was known for her strength.

Yet she felt very weak at the moment, weak and _tired_.

_It's been so long_...

Meredith didn't relax, _couldn't_ relax, not since the responsibility of being the Knight-Commander had been thrust upon her.

At times that simple fact felt like a great vice, squeezing her throat shut, throttling the energy out of her.

Now, despite her merely sitting behind her desk, seemingly at ease, was such a time.

She didn't let it show though, _couldn't_ let it show, she was the Commander, everyone, the whole _city_, depended on her being strong. As such, she mustn't show weakness. Instead, she held her tongue, trying to calm herself, to meditate even as she listened to the arguing of her two captains.

Cullen, seemingly more positive since the meeting with Hawke, was the one currently speaking. He did so with calm and conviction, the experiences he'd suffered in Ferelden and his long time of service made him one of Meredith's most valued men. As a man who'd resisted an onslaught of demons, he was trustworthy beyond measure and one to heed. Not that he and Meredith agreed on many issues...but she thought that a strength in him. "Hawke is not demanding much, and he is correct in his assertions. We _have_ been ruling yet not ruled the city for _years_, and in that time it has suffered as we've alienated most of the population."

"Did _we_ alienate them though, or did he _trick_ them into hating us?" Carver, younger, more naive and brash, but with a strong heart and conviction beyond measure was Meredith's other Captain. He reminded her of herself as young, his dedication and wish to do great things made him an inspiration to watch, a man without doubts. Plus, he was Garrett's brother, knew his heart...which made his advice about the man _essential_. "Garrett's not above swaying public opinion and manipulating people."

Meredith nodded slightly at that, making Cullen throw her one of his usual worried looks. "Whether true or not, we have not exactly done anything to alleviate such hostilities, our constant searches of homes and questioning of people while ignoring all the tasks the Viscount had is clearly not working in our favour."

"Then _we_ take up those tasks, we _cannot_ give in to his demands." Carver snapped back, chin held high.

"Ruling the city is not our job, and I cannot in good conscience order resources diverted from our duty to such mundane things as running a city." Meredith grunted, but chose not to speak further, wanting the others to keep up their debate. They were, when doing so, essential for Meredith to make up her mind, voicing thoughts and weighing them against one another in a way she couldn't do alone.

The two captains glanced to her, exchanged a look, and then continued, well-versed in how Meredith liked to keep her meetings going by now. Cullen was the one to go on the offensive yet again, continuing where Meredith left off. "As such, if we're to have any success in making us less hated in the city, we must surrender its rule to Garrett and the nobility. As he says, he's likely the only one we can trust with this task, considering who we are."

"The only one we can trust!?" Carver stared at Cullen as if the man had lost his mind. "Have you forgotten that we not that long ago wanted to take him in on account of his contact with blood-magic? It might have been him fighting it, but he could still have been corrupted. And may I remind you that when we did, he _threatened_ us off the premises? And then we have the dragon! There's hundreds of witnesses saying he fought the dragon with his elven mistress who used _magic_!"

_True, all too true_. Meredith sighed inwardly, she might be strong on the outside, but currently she felt weaker than Carver, assailed by doubts. The man had every right to point out the big issues with Garrett, yet all Meredith saw was how her duties would become just a bit fewer, the strain on her just a little less. _This state we're in_..._it can't continue like this_..._the issues coming up are overwhelming_...

Yet wasn't Carver correct?

Cullen didn't seem to think so. The man, despite all his trials with demons and those that cavorted with them, still somehow held great faith in mankind...Meredith found that inspiring. "Yet he displayed templar powers to us, surely that has to weigh into our-"

"Oh yes, a little flicker of power." Carver interrupted with a snort, arms crossed in front of his chest. "That doesn't make a templar...besides..." He turned, giving Meredith a look. "...if that was all it took to be immune to magic's corruption we wouldn't all be holed up here in the keep rather than the Circle tower, no?"

Cullen sighed, stroking his temples as he realised he wasn't winning the debate in the way it was going. "Then we _test_ him? We lay out the condition that none can rise to the position of Viscount without being thoroughly tested and examined by the best templars there is for any sign of corruption?" He too looked to Meredith now, giving her an encouraging look. "I'm sure Garrett would submit to such a test if it meant he'd get what he wants...and I'm also sure he would pass such a test, Commander."

Carver was right.

So was Cullen.

Meredith, caught in the middle, didn't know what to do.

_I'm so __tired__ of fighting him when I should be doing other things_...

_Yet he is __cavorting__ with mages_...

_Yet he has __templar__ powers_...

_He defies the order's __purpose_...

_He can __stop__ the city's decline and make the people cease being hostile_...

_He __sides__ with mages_...

_He can be an __ally_.

_He might be an __enemy_.

_If he is, won't the test show his __true__ colours_?

_And if it __doesn't_?

Grunting, Meredith shrugged. "I...don't know." The two men before her stared in surprise at her, making her look away with an annoyed frown. "Carver is right, Garrett is not to be trusted. And thank you, Cullen, but a test is not infallible and..." A sigh escaped her, her shoulders slumping for the first time in...she didn't know how long. "Then again, he would make life..._easier_. Maybe...m-maybe I _have_ been too hard on the citizens of Kirkwall? Maybe they _do_ need a secular ruler? Maybe, by allowing that, things will get...better, the hunt for mages less full of obstacles...maybe..." She looked down at her hands, they looked strong, yet powerless. "I just...we _shouldn't_ let him do this, he's violated too many of our laws and...but..." She shook her head._ Tired, so tired_...

Before her, the two men were silent, neither having expected their commander to show a hint of her doubts.

_Neither did I_..._Maker, give me strength_. "...I'm just not sure if we're pursuing the right agenda anymore." It was liberating to say it, yet _scary_, making her feel as if she was stepping into a dark pit, no longer knowing which way was up.

Then a pair of hands came to rest on her desk. Looking up, she found Carver looking at her, his expression stern, his eyes hard. "Doubt is the gateway to desire." T_he words, I spoke them so long ago and you_..._remembered_? Staring back, Meredith watched Carver calmly continue. "We are only human, but we are _templars_, we bear the responsibilities no other can, and by doing so, we prove ourselves worthier than any other." Meredith found herself slowly straightening, much to her surprise. "And we do what's _safe_."

_Yes, I said that_.

"Not what we _desire_."

_Of course not_.

"Nor what's _easy_."

_No_.

"But what's _safe_, and we do so, _praying_ that it's the right thing, for all we have in the world is _faith_."

Meredith, taking a deep breath, nodded, her strength slowly returning, her weariness slowly being pushed to the back of her mind where it belonged. "We keep our faith to the Maker, and act as _He_ bids."

"Yes, Commander." Slowly, with reverence, Carver stepped back and sunk to one knee, serene face staring straight ahead. "We must do the safe thing, thank you for having the strength to see that, Commander."

"Yes..." Meredith rose, smiling. "Thank you, Captain Carver." She turned her gaze to Cullen, the man pale as he stared at the pair, apparently lost for words. Meredith's face crinkled in sympathy. "I'm sorry, Cullen, I know how you feel, but we cannot risk letting such a man as Garrett become Viscount, tell him no."

Cullen was shaking his head, yet still managed to mutter a low. "Yes, Commander."

Slowly, Carver's serene face split into a satisfied little smile.

Meredith nodded at him, pleased. _Good man, helping me to make the __right__ decision_.

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson, for being awesome._


	84. Chapter 84

Sitting in his office, elbows on his desk and fingers interlocked in front of his face, Garrett scowled in disapproval and anger. The room was tidy, and spacious, despite the bookshelves lining the walls straining to contain the many scrolls, books and ledgers that Garrett had been forced to use in administrating the entire city from his home.

It wasn't hard for Garrett to sum up the anger. Sure, the aim of his gaze had caused some, but the meeting with Cullen a week ago still burnt within him like an open wound. _No_..._she couldn't let go of the power, she couldn't let me become Viscount, she's 'sorry'_..._Cullen, you are a poor liar_. It was frustrating enough that Garrett had headed into a guest-room and thrashed the place, something a controlled man like him would never do normally, but his frustration had grown to the point of no return and had simply bubbled over._ How far must I strong-arm Meredith to get what I want_!? _It's bad enough that she's causing riots in the city with her templars kicking a people already down on their luck, must I add to it by raising food-prices or something_!? _Must I burn her bloody keep down to make her understand_!? _Damn fool_..._I should steal all the Circle mages, put them on a boat and have her chase after, then close the bloody docks_!

Garrett's scowl turned into a glare.

Under the glare, the one before him simply put her arms in front of her chest and tilted her hips, lips pouting. On any other woman it would have looked seductive, for Isabela seductive was such second nature that it was simply a natural move of hers. Isabela arched an eyebrow. "Yes? What? You going to burn a hole through my chest if you keep glaring like that."

Garrett, all too accustomed to Isabela's ways, sighed, not about to take the bait as he shook his head. "So how many times is it now? Ten? Ten times in a _month_. Donnic has better things to do than to arrest you and bring you to me...in fact, what he _should_ be doing is throwing you in jail. I'm surprised he hasn't already."

"I _was_ his wife's best friend." Isabela unapologetically replied, something sharp in her tone.

Garrett frowned, then growled back. "Ten arrests in a month, petty _thievery_ at that, why?"

"Hey, at least it wasn't the thirty times it should be, eh?" Isabela shrugged and looked away, the smile on her lips never quite reaching her eyes.

"Isabela..." Garrett groaned, hands hitting the desk with a weary thump. "You can't keep doing this, if you need money-" 

"I don't."

"Then why-"

"Why not?"

"Isabela!" Garrett snapped, his blood rising at the woman's tone. "This is no joke! This is a serious matter and I will not have you sweep it aside like nothing!"

"Oh?" Still, the pirate refused to look at him, brow furrowing in anger. "Why not? You sure seem able to."

Garrett blinked, confused. "What are you talking about?"

Isabela turned her head around, glaring at him. "Aveline's dead, _murdered_."

Garrett grimaced, a jolt of pain in his heart at the mention of the woman who's loss he was so desperately trying not to think about. "Yes, and it's horrible-"

"Then why aren't you _doing_ anything!?" Isabela took a step forward, hands reaching out in front of her in pleading gesture. "Gather up the team, ride out and _find_ the son of a bitch who did this!"

Garrett sighed, rubbing his forehead. _So __this__ is what it's about_. "Isabela, I _know_ you're upset about this, we _all_ are-"

"_Bullshit_." Isabela growled, glaring at him.

Garrett frowned, the accusation making his already smouldering temper flare up further. He bit down on it though, taking a deep breath as he continued. "...but you _can't_ lash out like this because of her, she wouldn't have wanted that, would she?" To his relief, Isabela looked a little ashamed at his question, making him continue. "Now, as you know, Donnic is investigating the issue, and when-"

"Donnic!?" Again, Isabela interrupted Garrett, this time with a bitter laugh that swiftly got replaced by a tired look, her shoulders slumping as she looked at Garrett, shaking her head. "Donnic's a good guy, Garrett, and he's a good guard, but..." Her shoulders somehow slumped even more. "...he's not _you_. You know it, I know it...you'd get this done, not because you're more driven than him,or a better guard, but because you're..._you_." She made a gesture at the room around them. "You're a league above him."

Garrett opened his mouth to protest, but Isabela was faster, the woman suddenly turning to pace along his office like he usually did when confounded by a problem. Though unlike him when he paced, she held her head high, face twisted into an angry grimace. "And why aren't you doing that!? I...it wasn't so long before when you would have gathered up the gang and given us no rest until the killer was _found_! We would have turned every stone and questioned every sod with even a rumour of a guess!" She whirled to face Garrett, chest heaving with angry breaths. "And now you do _nothing_! You don't even _care_!"

Garrett was suddenly standing up. He didn't raise his voice, but his tone was cold. "_Don't_ say that."

Isabela hesitated, then looked away. "Sorry." The word was muttered, and had barely passed her lips before she glared at him again. "But that doesn't change that you and I both know that you could do _way_ more." She paused, letting the words sink in before she continued. "Deny it, I _dare_ you."

_I've done lots, without me, Donnic wouldn't have the resources to hunt the killer. Without me, there wouldn't be a guard_. _Without me, Aveline's death wouldn't even be investigated_. Garrett pressed his lips together into a thin line, glaring at the pirate. _I_..._damn it_.

Isabela didn't look smug, instead she leant forward, placing her hands on his desk with a sigh, weary eyes watching him. "_Exactly_." For a long moment, she simply held his gaze, then she looked away, shaking her head. "What happened, Garrett? Back in the old days, I might have found your loyalty to your companions and friends as somewhat...overzealous...but now...it's what got me to come back to you back when the Qunari did their thing. You...and the others...made me _care_. And now _you_ don't?" She stared at the table, frowning. "It's not _right_, it's not _you_...what changed? Why is all this other crap so much more important all of a sudden? I find you here, doing paperwork while Aveline lies in an urn..."

"Crap?" Garrett echoed, staring at the pirate in shock, then, slowly, he blinked. "Crap?" He slowly sat back into his chair, still staring at her as he slowly cocked his head to his side. "Do you _understand_ what I'm doing here...?"

Isabela bit her bottom lip, staring at him, clearly wanting to scream at him, but his question just managed to make her hold her tongue.

Garrett picked a letter at random, holding it up without a need to read the content again. "This is from a minor noble requesting to be allowed to stop selling his grain so cheaply to the masses, because it's impoverishing him. If I agree, more will ask for it, if I _don't_, he _will_ be impoverished and other nobles will begin to doubt my ability to lead them. If I pay him the difference, more will ask for such aid, and I will be unable to afford that." He let the words linger, even knowing what he'd do. _I'll pay him under the table using the Cats, he'll be even more in my pocket, grateful and the crisis will be averted_. "If this gets out of hand, ten _thousand_ people, those still eking out a living after the Qunari battle, will _starve_."

Isabela moved to reply, but Garrett was quicker.

"_This_ letter is from the Prince of Starkhaven, short and to the point...fuming, one might say." Garrett sighed. "He's informing us that he will no longer allow his merchants to do business with Kirkwall after the rough treatment of his merchants by the templars searching them, what tipped the scales was when his _sister_ was practically _molested_ by a templar when coming here on pilgrimage to the Chantry." He threw the paper aside in rage, the idea of how much Meredith was working against him and all he stood for driving him mad. "That would not only decrease local trade, but practically kill our trade with Ferelden, _shattering_ the barely standing economy I keep running here." _I must apologise ten thousand times over, pour vitriol against the templars and rain gifts upon the prince and more importantly his sister_..._eugh, it'll be expensive_.

Again, Isabela tried to get a word in, and again, Garrett raised a new letter.

"_This_ is a request from a local citizen, asking my aid with a runaway mage performing blood magic on local people in the neighborhood to train himself against the templars. The man fears letting Meredith know in case she decides to 'purge' the entire street, and so he comes to me. Should I do something, Meredith will come down on me like a hammer, if I don't, a killer mage runs loose on my streets and the people will hate me for it."_ He'll die quietly, and I'll owe Varric __another__ favour_. Garrett, tossing the letter aside, spread his arms wide. "This is _not_ crap, this is me being stuck between a rock and hard place, over and _over_ again. And by doing so, by placing myself there, I'm protecting and serving the lives of a _million_ souls." He paused, letting the words sink in. "Aveline would have approved about my priorities. I aid the many, keep _thousands_ fed, _that_ is what I do."

Isabela regarded him with a pained expression on her face, seemingly struggling with herself. Then, she cocked her head to the side and looked away. "Yes, yes she would..." She looked back at him, shaking her head. "But she would've approved from a different _motivation_ than yours." She winced at her own words even as Garrett coolly looked back. "You're not doing this for the people, don't put yourself on a high horse, I know you well enough, I know why you do all this..."

Garrett glared at her, his words curt. "I do this for _all of us_, and I will _not_ have you question me when I do what must be done."

"Yeah..." Isabela bit her bottom lip and suddenly turned away, hands coming up to rub her shoulders as she began walking for the door. "...nice to know you have _something_ in common with Meredith."

Garrett opened his mouth, but no words reached his lips, the pirate having left him speechless. She didn't revel in it though, instead she simply opened the door and walked out of the room, not looking back.

Slowly, Garrett leant back in his chair, gripping the armrests tightly in barely-contained fury. _Comparing me to Meredith_? _The nerve_! _That woman is the most pig-headed fool I've ever met, she'll destroy this city as surely as any Qunari invasion_. _Still, she refuses me what's rightfully mine, still, she holds back the city and all who depend on me_. _Still, she's doing more harm to Kirkwall than a hundred apostates_. _Meredith's the problem, not I, I won't be second-guessed by some pirate with no idea of the level of commitment and work required to do what I do_.

_She doesn't understand_.

A light tap on the door-frame made Garrett look up. In the doorway, Merrill, dressed in a pale white dress, shirked away at whatever was in his eyes, but then offered a gentle smile as Garrett's anger subsided.

It was strange, looking at Merrill. They had lived through so much together now, had had violent ups and downs, seen each other at their worst and best, been at each other's _throats_...it was a miracle they were both there, even more so that they were still together. Sometimes Garrett wondered why he didn't hate her, why he wasn't too exhausted to care, or why he hadn't just cut his losses and let her go.

Instead, he found nothing but a tentative and gentle love, a new sprout, growing from beneath the stem of what had been destroyed in the firestorm the two had unleashed upon one another.

So Garrett smiled back. "Merrill, love, I'm glad to see you." He rose from his seat even as she stepped into the office. "Feels like we haven't had a moment in days."

"We haven't." Merrill smiled uncertainly, looking up at him as he stepped closer, arms across her chest, as if she was cold. Garrett, stepping close, leant down and softly kissed her, feeling the need for care. "You have your work and I've been...tired."

"Yes, I know..." Garrett sighed, leaning low to catch her eyes, finding the large expressive orbs nervous and tired. "...are you coming down with something again? I...ever since that dragon you've not quite been...as strong as one would expect. What's the matter? I know that you...you know...but you told me you didn't take any offer or such...?" _Did you lie again_? The question was unspoken, yet Garrett still regretted it before he even spoke.

Merrill only smiled though, unwilling to take offense as she looked up at him. "No, I didn't. I just..." She swallowed. "...husband, c-could we..." Garrett blinked, Merrill _never_ called him husband, she had a hundred names for him, it felt like, but never husband. "...maybe get out of Kirkwall for a year or so? Take some time off on one of the estates in the countryside?"

Garrett blinked once more, of all requests and questions, he had _not_ expected that. "What? Merrill, we can't really do that, you know the work I do and how important that is."

"I do but...it wouldn't be _too_ bad, would it? A little delay, maybe, but hardly the end of Kirkwall, right?" Merrill replied, offering those big green eyes Garrett both loved and hated at the same time.

Struggling against the look, Garrett breathed out through the nose. "And what of the others? Our friends are here."

"They can come and visit, it'll be nice, you'll see." Merrill answered, smiling a little too broadly.

"Well...we could just as easily go out onto the estates outside whenever we wanted with our friends and..." Garrett shook his head, confused. "Merrill, what's going on? Why this sudden want to leave Kirkwall? And for a _year_?"

"I...well...it's just..." Merrill bit her lower lip, staring at him with big eyes.

Garrett, sighing, shrugged in impatience. "Yes...?"

Merrill, swallowing, grabbed his left wrist and brought it up, placing his hand across her stomach.

Garrett, confused, feeling nothing but a slim belly under the satin cloth of her dress, arched an eyebrow at Merrill. _I don't get it, why is she_...? The eyebrow was slowly lowered, his body going cold, as if his spirit had just left it and watched from somewhere above. His lips, suddenly dry, barely managed to move. "You...?"

Merrill, blinking away at tears suddenly prickling her eyes, nodded, her voice a tiny whisper. "I...yes..."

Garrett felt like someone had just taken his brain away and thrown it into the sea, then stopped his heart for good measure. Behind him, the desk creaked as he sat down on it, not quite sure when his knees had stopped supporting his weight. His eyes, unblinking, stared at Merrill, not really seeing anything. _I'm_..._I'm going to be_...?

Merrill, uncertain, whimpered. "S-so I th-thought that maybe some fresh air would be good, and, yo-you know, I do-don't like a-all the stu-stuff happening here, I'd...I'd like to be safe and keep him or her safe wi-with me. A-and I understand th-that yo-you have responsibilities b-but I'd h-hoped that you'd come with us." She swallowed, looking frightened to her very core. "I...I really need you right now, need you to stay close."

Garrett, overcome, not sure _what_ he was doing, slipped off the desk and onto his knees, arms snaking around Merrill's waist, pulling her closer.

Merrill, falling silent, let a hand slide through his hair as he felt her tremble in his hands.

Slowly, like in a dream, he kissed the satin covering Merrill's belly, tears he hadn't felt staining the cloth even as he pressed his face into her, shaking with a feeling he couldn't put a name on.

Above him, Merrill's voice was but a whisper. "H-husband...? About going out of the city...?"

Garrett made the tiniest of frowns at the thought, but it evaporated a second later as the strange bubbling feeling within him overcame all else. "We'll talk about that later, right now, let me just..." He gave voice to a small laugh, the sound escaping him without warning before he placed another kiss on Merrill's belly.

The hand in his hair caressed him, relieved. "Okay, love you..."

"Love you too."

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The smell of decay filled Anders' nostrils, the blood lotus was famous for it, the otherwise pretty flower signalling an end to all through its scent.

Especially when ground down to a fine dust, mixed with the blood of a dragon at near boiling temperature.

Anders, sweating heavily under his robe, watched the mixture carefully. He was at a critical stage, one wrong move and the mixture before him would either be rendered useless...or it would send a fire-storm throughout his clinic large enough to kill thousands of people. Yet there was no hesitation, his nervousness not showing in his hands as he brought the spirit shard forth, his finely-honed dagger making an incision along the pale blue crystal's length before, without hesitation, putting it into the cauldron.

For but a moment, Anders stiffened.

No rush of fire appeared though, no dark oblivion and a release of the growling Justice. Instead, the mixture simply puttered, seemingly harmless.

Behind the closed door to his office, an infant screamed, then fell silent as the waiting mother brought what milk there was.

Anders, knowing he was preciously low on time, continued. One hand scooped up the fire-crystals, cut into tiny little pearls, and held them over the cauldron as the other hand aimed low, a focal as he summoned the fade energies to pick up the chill in the air far above, the cold of earth and water...

With a little clatter, the first fire crystal was dropped into the cauldron even as the fire beneath died down under the gentle spray of ice shooting from Anders' fingertips. Then another crystal landed into the cauldron, followed by a third, then a fourth...slowly, they were all poured into the mixture, each crystal causing a small swelling of bubbles into the mix before the chill contained the energies wanting to be unleashed.

_Now, it must harden, I'll wait three days, then the final ingredients will enter the mix and the work will be complete_. Anders smiled, a smile of satisfaction, of relief, of knowing what would come next. _Soon, Justice, soon_... There was a growl within him, like a wolf's._ I know, I know, we've waited so long...just a bit longer though, just a little longer and we'll have justice for all mages_.

Suddenly, the door slammed open, making Anders whirl about, ready to conceal his works or to fight, whatever the need may be.

The man holding the door open was all grins though, his pale face alight with excitement, his gaze fixed on Anders and lost to all else. "The fever's breaking! My little girl will be okay!"

Anders offered a gentle smile. "I told you, a few days and she'll be as good as new."

The man, shaking his head, grinned even wider. "I cannot...thank you enough! It's...a miracle is what it is!" He wiped away a tear trickling down his cheek. "I'll offer you a prayer every night at the Chantry from now on, Maker bless you!"

Anders offered a curt smile at that. "Oh that's hardly necessary..."

"But it is, Serah, it _is_!" The man nodded furiously, still grinning. "If you _ever_ need me, you can find me in the Chantry in the evenings, praying for the good Warden who saved my little one!"

Anders, knowing his every protest would go unheeded, and that any warning might ruin _everything_ they'd worked for, nodded. "Very well, as you will, then."

The man before him simply grinned, then rushed off, no doubt to hug his little daughter harder than she'd ever been hugged before.

With the man gone,Anders' face turned back into a stony mask, the smile dying. _That isn't right_...

In the back of his mind, Justice growled in agreement, a painful sound as the spirit felt compelled to hurt Anders, despite their merging.

_But necessary, friend, if we are to do all the good we must do_. Justice remained silent, but Anders knew it agreed, maybe the thought had even _been_ Justice's...it was sometimes hard to tell. _Every dead man, woman and child will be a martyr for our cause, a red flag of war, a war that'll liberate our enslaved people_..._it'll be hard, painful, so many injustices will be done_..._but the result..the result will make it all worth it_.

Anders walked to the still open doorway, gaze moving to look at the man hugging his little daughter as she laughed at his silliness. _She will likely lose a father_. Again, the pain that by now was a second skin, wormed through Anders' flesh at the injustice it would be.

_But she will gain a new world_.

Smiling, Anders closed the door.

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson, for being there during the difficult times._


	85. Chapter 85

"Garrett, I know you're angry but-" 

"Angry?" Garrett was frowning, and it was not one of his thoughtful frowns, which was a bad sign. "I'm frustrated and furious, and my patience is running _thin_. Which is why I've asked you both here, I need _ideas_, I need a way to force Meredith to change her decision and _make_ her accept me as Viscount."

At the moment, Garrett looked very much like a Fereldian warrior-king, and considering the subject at hand, Varric found himself disturbed by the image. There was no questioning the imposing sight though. The man, in full white dragonbone armour from his sparring with Bastile, sat on a small chair, yet somehow made it look like a throne as he rested his right elbow on an armoured thigh while his left hand absently stroked the back of an attentive Maric's head. Around them, the sand of the training-room within the estate stained by sweat and disturbed by those who'd struggled upon it a while ago.

The other two in the room were unarmoured and looked far smaller than the noble, despite him sitting down. Varric, feeling surprisingly puny as he felt the pressure of history bearing down on him, he was anything but blind to what was going on around him, after all, put his hands deep into the pockets of his coat and shrugged. "Well...the Cats can always cause even _more_ mischief."

"That is a continuation of the current idea, _not_ a new one." Garrett grunted, then snorted. "Besides, any more and we'll be causing more damage to ourselves than to Meredith...there's only so many riots I can control, Varric."

"Well..." Next to Varric, Anders was in his dark robes that couldn't quite conceal the pale and scared flesh beneath, making him seem more like a scarecrow than a human as he with interlocked fingers cocked his head to the side. "...you _do_ know that many nobles keep personal apostates as healers and such. Should that information be leaked to Meredith, she might do something rash that you may exploit."

Garrett frowned, thinking the idea over, and then rejected it with a shake of his head. "No. I want her to accept the reality of the situation, I _don't_ want her to start a war. Nor do I desire to undermine the trust of one of the pillars of power I'm using. I _need_ the nobles on my side."

Varric sighed. He didn't like any of this, not one bit. "Garrett, you _know_ that Meredith can't keep this up forever, she'll have to relent eventually. So why not ease back with all the efforts on making her go your way and focus on keeping order and such? I know it's a strain, but if you'd stop fighting Meredith too, it would be less of one." Varric shrugged. "And in time, you'd still get what you want, there's no rush, is there?"

Garrett glared at Varric at that. "No rush? I've waited for this for...Maker, I can't even _remember_ how many years now! And you want me to wait even more?" Snorting, he let go of Maric to point an accusing finger out the door. "_She_ is holding what is rightfully _mine_ and is making the entire _city_ suffer at the same time! I will _not_ sit on my laurels and wait until she grows tired of it or is forced away by some other force. What she's doing isn't legal, isn't moral and isn't _acceptable_, and I'll be _damned_ before I let her get away with it!"

_Oh boy_..._Meredith's refusal really hit hard, huh_? Varric, aware that he was treading on thin ice, grimaced. "True, all true, but you're a realist, aren't you? And you know that in the end, you can't really force Meredith to do anything, she's too powerful, she has too many Templars to call on to be forced to do anything."

Garrett huffed at that, but didn't argue as his hand dropped back, scratching Maric behind the ear as the grim dog eyed Anders. The dog had been somewhat odd around the mage for a while, not hostile, but every time he was around, the dog just kept _watching_ him. _Creepy_... The mage, refusing to even acknowledge the dog or its stare, was the one replying. "There is that, yes, we don't want a war with the templars..." Varric shot the mage a look, he knew the man well enough, he'd seen him change during the years...and something about his words had a foul scent to them. _Maybe I'm just paranoid, though he __was__ more pro-war and revolution before, wasn't he_?_ Did Garrett finally temper him or_...?

"I'm well aware of Meredith's military might." Garrett grunted, the man looking down at the ground between his feet, brooding. "I'm also aware of Meredith's stubbornness...if not for that, her military might would have been a non-issue, she would have balked at all the other issues and agreed with me, and we would all be better of."

Varric chuckled. "Not saying you're _wrong_, Hawke...but could we perhaps have a little humility in that statement?"

That drew a smile from Garrett, a pale and fleeting one that only seemed to make the grim look that followed look even more dark. "Humility doesn't change the fact that I _should_ be the ruler of this city and that Meredith is slowly destroying this city with her behaviour."

"Yes, well..." _Dangerous thoughts there, Garrett_. "...while that is true, if you truly believed Meredith was risking _destroying_ the city...why is Merrill still here?" Varric had to ask it. The announcement had been joyous, but something in the way Garrett acted about it disturbed the dwarf. "I can understand you staying, but why keep Merrill and the child here?"

"I feel it's safer to keep her close, in the estate and with me." Garrett curtly responded, the man looking anything but pleased to be questioned about that._ Merrill was at him about this before, I think_... "Plus, imagine how it would look to the commoners and nobles alike if I send my wife away. They'd say I was afraid the city would collapse into chaos, or that it's about to, or that the child is going to turn into an abomination or something."

_Ah, there's the __real__ crux of the matter_. Varric grimaced. "Garrett, as your friend, I'll say this..._please_ don't prioritise politics over the well-being of your child and wife." He winced, but forced himself to go on. "She once put her own ideals before everything else, and that lead nowhere good...don't repeat that mistake." 

To his relief, the words made Garrett pause, a flicker of worry and hesitation in his eyes.

Anders was quick to reply though, the mage grunting as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I hardly think politics and _blood-magic _is the same thing. She was playing with fire the whole way through, what Garrett's doing is something inherently good, and much more safe."

To Varric's frustration, Garrett smiled at the mage's words. _Bloody_..._I hate it when people are desperate to hear what they want to hear, makes it impossible to argue with them_. "More safe? I think there's a few hundred dead Orlesian nobles, even emperors, throughout history who would disagree. Danger is danger, magic is just another form."

"Are you lecturing _me_ about the dangers of magic?" Anders chuckled at the notion.

Before Varric could reply, Garrett made a curt gesture. "Enough, this is pointless." He turned to regard Varric with dark brown eyes, eyes full of intellect...intellect and _ambition_. "Varric, Merrill and I will both stay in Kirkwall, and we _will_ lead the city out of this crisis." He turned to Anders, speaking calmly, so used to be obeyed he by now _truly_ sounded like a lord. "Varric is, however, correct, politics _is_ dangerous, and we must be careful. We must force Meredith into a position where her only alternative is to submit, that requires that the option to use force isn't available."

"Remove Meredith from the equation?" Anders asked, making Varric draw a sharp breath. Sure, they were in Garrett's estate, surrounded by his guards, and it wasn't like any of them hadn't gotten their hands dirty before...but some things one just didn't say.

"Oh yes, I wonder who they'd suspect of such a deed..." Garrett snorted in sarcasm. "Besides, we either get Cullen, who's competent enough to investigate who did such a deed and on who's order...in which case he'll be duty-bound to give a reply...or we get my brother to replace her." The man grimaced. "Either way would lead to war, if not immediately, then when the Divine's fury descends upon us." He shook his head. "No, killing is not the answer here."

_Thank the Maker_. Varric drew a breath of relief, he knew Garrett was frustrated beyond words at Meredith's refusal to bow to his demands, but at least he was still thinking straight. "As I hear it, she's quite stressed now..." Varric muttered, not sure where he was going with it. "...perhaps we could simply burn her out by increasing pressure specifically on _her_...if she's unfit for duty, she'd be replaced by someone appointed by the Divine, no?"

"That is indeed an idea..." Garrett nodded, but then shook his head. "Until the divine sent the replacement though, one of the captains would lead the templars though, and whoever the Divine favours might not look kindly on us either." He shrugged. "Besides, Meredith _doesn't_ break, she's shown that again and again by now..." He grumbled at the words, clearly annoyed as he glared down at his clenched fist.

Silence, the two men advising the noble shuffling where they stood, not sure how to respond to Garrett's frustration.

"Well..." Anders begun. "...I have talked some with Orsino."

"And?" Garrett looked up, his face dull, not expecting anything.

"And he pointed out that the Circle tower is by now fairly lightly guarded, most templars apparently are kept in their own keep."

Varric paled at Anders' words, or rather, what they insinuated. "You can't be serious."

Anders didn't even glance at him, eyes intense, almost glowing, as he held Garrett's gaze. "He also pointed out that Meredith is, above all else, a control freak."

"That's putting it lightly." Garrett snorted. "That's why she's done all that she's done, after all." He wasn't encouraging Anders to continue speaking, but neither was he dismissing it, making a cold shiver run down Varric's spine. _I have a bad feeling about this_...

"So what if we _remove_ her control of what she's above all else concerned about?" Anders smiled, a thin and cold smile. "If she can't control her mages, that means they could be doing all manner of things, blood-magic, necromancy, the foulest of things imaginable...or at least, that's what she'll think."

"And then she attacks and kills everyone, good plan." Varric snorted, trying to dismiss the words of the mage as swiftly as possible.

Anders wasn't dissuaded though. "The Circle tower is not so easily overcome by prepared defenders, and the Templars know how to fight mages, not mages working with warriors...they won't be able to breach it, at least not in time to stop whatever horrible thing Meredith imagines the free mages would be doing."

"You think she would feel compelled to negotiate." Garrett summarised, tone neutral.

Anders nodded. "Indeed, if she wants the mages back quickly enough, she _has_ to do so. Remember, every second she's not in control of the Circle mages, is a second she's failing her duty as a templar, and she's _all_ about duty."

Varric, shaking his head, could do nothing but protest. "Oh yes, except she might not see it that way, she might see an assault as the only option. Or she might burn down the entire city, or decide to starve you out...you can't just _assume_ she'll do as you please."

His words fell on deaf ears, Garrett's gaze remained glued to Anders as he spoke. "And Orsino and you? Why would you want this...?"

"I'd want every mage free..." Anders sighed in irritation, then shrugged. "But this Circle wants to stay, and I have to respect that. As such, they want your help in this so as to take Meredith out of office, or at least make her follow the rules...even create more rules to make the mages safer and freer within the tower than they are now." The man shrugged. "I...take what I can get, but the offer hinges on you accepting it. If not...well...I'll have to find another way."

"Interesting...very...interesting." Stroking his Mabari a little swifter, Garrett regarded the mage with a glow in his eyes, his pose shifting, turning from broody to eager.

Varric took a step forward, tone low. "Garrett...this is _too_ dangerous, a million things can go wrong with such a plan. It gambles _everything_, everything you've built, everything you have. Just wait a little more, think-"

"I've waited long enough, Meredith won't budge for anything." Garrett grunted back, looking to Varric with a tired look, his smile thin. "But this...oh she'll have to budge."

_Maker, no_... "You don't _know_ that! By Andraste's tits! I know you're impatient, I know you're frustrated! I know you've waited for _soooo_ long! But this is _not_ a good idea!" Varric, spreading his arms wide, made a final gamble. "Think about Merrill! Your kid! Would you risk their future, maybe their very _lives_, on this?"

Silence.

Garrett before him looking back with a surprised look, then one of anguish, the thought triggered by the dwarf's words hitting home, making him finally lower his head. _Thank goodness_... Varric took a deep breath, ignoring Anders' furious glare as he smiled at Garrett, glad the man had come back to his senses.

When the man looked back up, his tone was calm. "That might not happen." Varric's smile died. "Besides, I'm doing this for _thousands_ of children's sake..." The man offered an uneasy smile. "It's the right thing to do, Varric."

Taking a step back, Varric shook his head, mouth hanging open in shock and fear. _Oh no_...

And next to him, Anders smirked.

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Merrill whimpered, then gasped, the intricate tattoos on her back seemingly writhing with a life of their own as her sweat made them glint and shimmer.

Groaning back, Garrett gripped her hips and pressed hard, his body going rigid as a taut rope, drawing a moan from the elf as she felt him twitch against her and then empty himself within her.

Blinking, suddenly dizzy, Garrett swayed where he knelt. Then he managed to pull back and roll onto his back, the sheets of their bed clinging to his limbs as he clumsily tried to pull them over himself and the elf. Merrill was no longer on all fours but now lay on her stomach, face pressed into a pillow as she whimpered and twitched in the afterglow of their lovemaking.

Breathing heavily, Garrett leant over, kissing the woman's hair, his lips just brushing a pointed ear, making her mewl something into the pillow. Garrett chuckled at the sight. "This pregnancy sure has gotten you...demanding. How am I supposed to be able to survive eight more months of this?"

Merrill turned her head, teeth flashing in one of her rare grins. "I guess you have to cope, I haven't even tried the dirty spells yet."

Garrett arched an eyebrow, curious. "_Dirty_ spells?"

"Oh yes, I had some help from Isabela figuring them out...you know...what would be...good." Merrill, despite their current predicament, somehow managed to blush, making her look away. "She's awful." There was a smile in the accusation.

"Yes she is." Garrett rolled closer, pressing himself against the elf's back, lips finding an ear to kiss as he wrapped an arm around her. "And I'll hate having to thank her later."

Silence greeted his joke, making him frown in worry.

Merrill soon spoke though, her mirth gone. "Why can't we leave?" _Not this again_. Garrett groaned inwardly even as the elf continued. "I like it here, I _love_ it here, but...with everything happening...this is not the place to have a child."

"There _is_ eight months still left, you know." Garrett pointed out, trying to sound cheerful.

"You know what I mean." Merrill grumbled, curling up as she lay facing away from him. "I...I don't want anyone else in my family getting hurt."

"They won't be." Garrett kissed the nape of her neck. "I promise...I'll get this all fixed and you'll see a new city emerge."

"Yes, probably, if anyone can do that, you can..." Merrill sighed in reluctance, yet still pressed back against him, not about to leave his warmth. "...but I still worry, I don't want to take any more chances."

"Hey..." Garrett reached round, cupping the woman's chin, he made her turn her head to look at him as he offered a gentle smile. "...let _me_ worry about all that stuff, okay? It'll be fine, I assure you..." He leant over, kissing her softly.

When he leant back, the woman sighed. "I...well..yes, I guess it will be...I just...I don't-" Again, Garrett leant forward, kissing her harder this time. When he pulled back, Merrill was giggling. "Well when you put it that way...!" She smiled, there was a worry in her eyes, but Garrett noticed her suppressing it as best she could. _Thank you, I need that support right now_. "Okay, I trust you...sorry for being so silly, of course it'll work out, it'll be fine."

Garrett smiled back, happy with the result of their talk.

Then Merrill's smile turned into a smirk, the woman twisting to press the side of her thigh against him with a feigned look of surprise. "Oh, what's this...?" She looked up at Garrett, grinning. "I thought you called _me_ demanding?"

Smirking back, Garrett thrust against her. "Well...you _did_ mention something about a dirty spell...?"

Merrill bit her bottom lip, eyes sparkling. "Yes, yes I did..."

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson, for everything._


	86. Chapter 86

"Well?"

Garrett, having gone through the plan for a second time now, forced himself to remain seated behind his desk, the epitome of patience and neutrality, allowing for those before him to speak up as they felt, to agree or disagree, to follow or leave as they wished.

He owed them that much.

Before him, he was frustrated to see many an unsure look on his companions.

Only Anders was smiling and nodding, a glow of satisfaction in his pale blue eyes.

Merrill, despite having said she trusted him, was twisting back and forth where she stood, swallowing loudly even as she bit her lower lip in nervousness.

Varric had his hands in his pockets, head bowed and forehead wrinkling in a frown.

Isabela looked like she was at war with herself, shifting from one foot to the other, eyes darting from one feature of Garrett's office to the next, eyes full of conflicting emotions.

Maric was sitting on his haunches, stoic, but a low whine of worry escaped the Mabari every time Garrett threw him a look.

Fenris, arms crossed over his chest, was glowering at Garrett, softly shaking his head.

At the back, by the closed door, Bastile, the ex-chevalier, stood rigid. The man disapproved heartily of the idea of allying with mages, yet Garrett knew he wouldn't fail his lord, for he had given him his honour back, and that was worth more than any misgivings the warrior might have.

The others, though...

Garrett took a deep breath. "I know this is...much to ask, and I'll only want volunteers. I won't try to sway you with offers of gold or whatever else you might desire, this is too great a thing for it to be worth it, no matter the reward. _If_ you join me, _if_ you'll help me, do so because you believe in this cause, because you believe in this plan." 

Before him, his friends shifted, uncomfortable under his piercing gaze, by now, he could read them like he would a book.

_I shouldn't use that against them though, they deserve to come out of their own free will, not fooled by some sweet words_. Still, Garrett couldn't help but turn his question to one he knew would back him, desiring a positive snowball effect. "Merrill?"

They'd already spoken a lot about it, and Garrett knew exactly what she'd say before she opened her mouth, hands over her belly that had yet to show much sign of he pregnancy. "I...I don't like this. I'd...like to be somewhere else, safe outside the city with our child...but...if you do this..." _And I will_. "...Meredith will find me." She swallowed and raised her chin, offering a trembling smile. "I'll come with you, it's safer there and...Meredith might scare me, but that hasn't stopped me from fighting before, has it?" Her smiled turned a little braver. "It's time to end this, to stop having to look over my shoulder every time I go outside."

"Brave words, and words every mage in Kirkwall are ready to repeat." Anders replied, his teeth flashing white under his hood. "Well...except for the child part, I _hope_." A chuckle spread throughout the room at the joke, but it faded in a mere moment as Anders' face turned serious again, eyes on Garrett. "I will follow you, to the last drop of my blood...Meredith's reign of terror ends now. We will do this for every dead and tranquil mage, for Aveline, for the people of Kirkwall, for the world, for _Justice_."

Varric sighed. "I...don't know." He looked up at Garrett, grimacing. "I just..." He looked away. "Don't know." Garrett, taking a deep breath, forced himself not to speak, to let the dwarf speak once more. "I don't like this, Garrett, not your reasons for this, nor the plan...everything _screams_ danger to me...and not the acceptable level either." A deep breath, and the dwarf pulled his hands from his pockets and straighted. "_But_...well I can't well let you go into the lion's den on your own, can I?" His eyes twinkled for but a second. "I'm with you, not for your cause, or for what your success might do, but for _you_." Garrett, breathing a sigh of relief, nodded in gratitude. Nodding back, Varric cleared his throat. "Don't waste this, Garrett."

"Shit..." Isabela muttered, giving Varric a look. "How the hell am I supposed to compete with words like that?" After sharing a smile with the dwarf, she turned to Garrett and shrugged. "Look I...don't have the words. Yet you've saved my hide too many times to count, you believed in me when you shouldn't, you gave me second chance, a new _life_..." The pirate drew a shuddering breath. "No way I'll abandon one of my crew." Garrett smiled, making Isabela sniffle and look away to hide her face even as she managed a broken laugh. "Even when he's an idiot."

Whining softly, Maric walked closer to the pirate, pressing his flank into her leg and making her smile and scratch his head. Even as she did so, the dog's gaze was on Garrett as he gave voice to a lone woof. There was no doubt that he wouldn't come, but the sound of agreement was welcome none the less.

Taking a step back, Fenris shook his head at them all. "No. You are all fools. No."

"Fenris..." Isabela started, only to go silent as Garrett raised a hand. _Let him speak, he's earned that_.

The elf was glaring at Garrett. "I have followed you for coin all this time, I have done you favours, and you have done me favours. I believe that while we don't like one another, we _respect_ one another." Garrett nodded in agreement, assessing the man, tense under his calm eyes, wondering how far the elf would go. "But this is against _everything_ I stand for. Allying with _mages_? Freeing them from templars? I don't _care_ how temporary you make it sound, it's unacceptable." The man took a deep breath, hands closing into fists as he looked down at the floor. "I...you saved me from my former master, you freed me not just from being enslaved again, but from being hunted ever again." He looked up, eyes narrowed. "I will go to my place and stay there until this is over. You do as you please, I will not stand in your way, _that_ is how much you have earned, but no more." He turned on his heel and marched past Bastile, throwing the door open with an angry bang.

_I hope you're not lying_... Garrett had always suspected Fenris wouldn't go along with his plan, the two didn't have the same connection as he did to the others. The promise not to interfere had been a nice surprise though. _If__ I can trust it_. Garrett turned his gaze to Bastile and gave a nod. _Watch him, keep him in his home_. The Chevalier nodded, then turned and marched out the room.

With a low whistle, Varric drew a long breath. "Well..._that_ was awkward."

"I _did_ offer a choice, Varric." Garrett rose from his seat. "But I'm glad so many chose to stay with me." He looked at them all, into their eyes. The passion in Ander's, the trust in Merrill's, the loyalty in Isabela's, the concern in Varric's, the calm in Maric's. It was touching, making him smile. "Thank you, all of you."

"Hey, no problem." Isabela chuckled, a sarcastic look on her face. "Was there ever any doubt?"

Garrett looked to her again, face serious. "Not for you." 

Isabela blinked, then blinked again as a tear appeared in the corner of her eyes, her voice a hushed whisper. "Thanks..."

Realising he was embarrassing her, Garrett nodded and marched forward, head held high as he passed through the doorway and into the large chamber beyond.

Appearing atop the balcony overlooking the large marble floor below, Garrett was greeted by a cheer.

Below, the nobles of Kirkwall stood. Though none was in armour, many carried their swords, and now raised them high as Garrett spread his arms wide with content smile. "Brothers, sisters!" _You have grown strong, loyal, brave_. "You all know the plan!" _You were nobles, now you are also warriors_... "Once it's done, the tyranny of Meredith will be no more! Our hardships will end! Our city will once again prosper!" Drawing his sword, Garrett thrust it into the air, his chest tight with eagerness as it swelled with the feeling of power the nobles bellowed had endowed him with. "Kirkwall will be ours!"

The chamber shook with the roar of approval.

_As you are __mine_.

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"It is done."

"He will come and help us then? With all his men and nobles?"

"Yes, here's the plan."

In the darkness of the Chantry's chamber for honouring the dead, one couldn't even see the heavily scared mage, and the envelope being handed to the praying First Enchanter was but a flash of white as it disappeared into the folds of the elf's robes.

"Thank the Maker...soon we will be rid of her, soon we can rebuild and heal."

"Yes."

"And the explosive? It's all set under the Templar keep, should Meredith get any ideas?"

"Of course."

"Excellent, this will be over quick then." Slowly, Orsino got to his feet. "Thank you, Anders, I know this isn't exactly what you wanted but...thank you, you are a hero."

"Don't thank me, I only do what is necessary."

"Well, thank you none the less." Orsino smiled at the other man, then glanced back. "I must go, lest they come in here to check up on me. Again, thank you." With that, he began to hurry towards the door at the far side of the chamber.

Behind him, Justice's face split into a cold smile.

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_He saved me from Danarius, I'm free to go wherever I wish thanks to him, none will hunt me ever again_.

_But he didn't let me kill that monster, no, he wanted him alive for political reasons, in fact, he helped me for the same reason, to unify the nobles around him_. _Did he think I wouldn't notice_?_ Or not care_? To be fair, at the moment, Fenris _hadn't_ cared, but now, when his world had been thrown upside down again, that piece of knowledge had soured into something bitter to bite away at Fenris' resolve.

Sitting in a chair atop the balcony overlooking the main chamber of his 'home', sipping the last bottle of some Tevinter brandy – Fenris appreciated the irony of enjoying the labours of what was rumoured to be made by Tevinter mages themselves – the former slave felt himself slowly grow numb as he struggled to contain his feelings.

_Helping the mages_..._on that abomination's behalf, no doubt_. _Garrett's a fool_. _The only one here who seems to know the dangers of magic is Meredith, despite her being largely an idiot in all other matters_.

_Doesn't matter, not my fight_.

Taking another sip from his bottle, Fenris grit his teeth. _I don't owe him anything, I really should just go to Meredith and tell her everything_..._the mages cannot be trusted the way Garrett does_.

Yet Fenris remained seated._ He deserves better than me stabbing him in the back though. I've_..._killed enough allies_.

_It's not my fight_.

_Plus, he trusted me with the plan, gave me a choice_..._who else has __ever__ done that, but him_? _No, I __cannot__ betray that trust, I for my own sake as much as his, we both deserve better_. _I'll let fate decide what the future holds, let him play his foolish gambit, then see what I'll do_.

_He deserves that much for trusting me_. _For giving me a choice_.

Below, at the entrance of the room, the front door swung open, then closed. Looking down from his vantage point with a sudden tightness in his stomach, Fenris saw seven men appear as they marched into the hall. While wearing no tabards or other signs, Fenris recognised them as Garrett's soldiers. And there was no mistaking the man at the front, his heavy plate armour shimmering in the light filtering through a window. _Bastile_.

Meeting Fenris' gaze, the ex-chevalier bowed his head. "Respectfully, Garrett has ordered me to stay here during the crisis." He met the narrowing of Fenris' eyes with a cool look. "Just making sure you stay here during the crisis, serah, don't mind us."

"I see." Fenris duly replied, shaking his head. _So much for the trust, I was a fool_.

"Don't." Bastile grunted, the men behind him tightening their grips on their sheathed swords. "We'll leave you soon enough, no need to fight about it."

Reaching back, the simmering resentment and anger he'd kept in check suddenly bursting forth, Fenris' found his sword. "Oh yes, there is."

Rising, blade held high, Fenris made his choice.

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"Meredith!" Cullen was gasping for breath as he jogged to catch up with the Knight-Commander.

Turning, the woman's eyes widened at the state of him. "Maker's breath, what happened!?"

Sliding to a stop, Cullen wiped a moldy piece of lettuce from his forehead, then a splatter of blood from his cheek. "Protesting happened." He took a deep breath, leaning on his arms. "Commander, there was a horde of them, just civilians...they pounced on a patrol of six men...tore them apart with their bare hands!"

The Commander took a step back, shaking her head. "Y-you cannot be serious..." She stopped, then straightened, clearly struggling to come to terms with the shocking news. "And you? How did you survive?"

"Commander, they did it _just_ outside the keep...I rushed out with a company, drove the people off so we could recover the remains..." He swallowed, looking around the courtyard as he felt many a curious templar looking at the exchange. The worry was thick in the air, by now it felt like they were under siege, rather than simply garrisoning the keep...and he knew Meredith felt that too. "Only, they didn't scatter, instead they held back just out of range and...well they started to pelt us with rotten food." Cullen grimaced at the memory, there had been so much of it...and the shouts and curses that had followed were full of rage against those the people perceived – and not entirely unrightly – to be the cause for their troubles. "Then they charged us."

"Civilians...charged you? A whole company of templars" Meredith echoed, staring at him as if he had gone mad.

"I couldn't believe it myself." Cullen shook his head. "We cut them down as they came, a good two dozen of them are dead now, plus I don't know how many wounded, before they broke. But we lost another templar, and two more got injured." He took a step closer, so close he could feel Meredith's breath brush his face. "Commander, they didn't flee, they pulled back, but they're still out there, in the alleys, glaring at us."

Meredith took a step back, concern written all over her face. "We can lead another charge out and scatter them easily enough."

"Yes, we can, but..." Cullen, emboldened by need, gripped his Commander's arm, stopping her. "...Serah, they'll be _back_. Maybe more of them, maybe _a lot more_. And with this attack...it can't be safe for our patrols anymore...we'd have to send them out in _company-sized_ contingents." He let the words sink in. "Meredith, _can_ we do that? For how long can we keep that up? The whole _city_ is against us, and they're desperate enough to be ready to _fight_ us."

Meredith attempted a smile, but it was surprisingly nervous. "We are strong though, no amount of civilians can..."

"No, but this situation can't work, we can't be at war with the whole _city_!" Cullen snapped, his voice a loud hiss as he leant closer. "The Divine will have our heads if she learns we are waging a war against her subjects! All of rank will be dismissed and Maker knows what else! We _can't do this anymore_!"

Meredith stared at him for a long time.

Then, slowly, she nodded. "Very well...you're right, I...you're right."

Taking a step back, Cullen released his Commander, feeling a cold bead of sweat run down his back even as relief coursed through him. "We _need_ Hawke, we need to give him the reins, he can calm this down..." It was dangerous words, and Cullen knew all too well how much it sounded like he was asking her to give in to the man and submit, something a templar like her would never do.

Yet, she nodded, looking away in shame. "Yes, I guess we do..."

Cullen, standing still, felt his heart hammer as he waited for the woman's orders.

Turning to look at him again, Meredith had her mask of stoic strength back on. "Go to him, tell him...we'll make him Viscount."

Bowing low, Cullen breathed out in relief. "I'll go immediately, Commander...thank you."

With that, he turned and begun to walk, glad that the situation was about to be saved.

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson, for still being there._


	87. Chapter 87

"This is a nice spyglass." Garrett held the slender tube of bronze and glass gently, all too aware how fragile the more esoteric creations of the dwarves were...especially with objects an Orzammar dwarf created solely for the use of those above ground. Whether it was a tactic to get more orders when things broke, or because they couldn't fathom the wear and tear the more odd creations had to endure, Garrett wasn't sure. "Perhaps a bit short?"

"The length decides how far it looks, Serah, this isn't for looking to the horizon so much as discern the details of a nearby forest, for instance." The dwarf behind the table of his market-stand politely replied. The smile on his lips was friendly, but automatic, his eyes betraying his fear. "Orlesian commanders like to have one for long range and one for short...honestly I figured this would sell here to some noble that would like to spy on his neighbour." The man coughed, eyes widening. "Not that I'd ever suggest that the Champion of Kirkwall would _ever_...ah...eh..."

"Of course not." Garrett replied, not unkindly. He could well understand the merchant's fear. It was frightening enough for a small-time merchant to come face to face with the grim champion of Kirkwall, but the man was also armoured in his white dragonbone armour and accompanied by not only his elf love and companions, but a large entourage of soldiers bearing his livery. Of course, any noble was allowed to bring guards with him into the city, but Garrett's group was near fifty strong, far more than usual, and all were armed and armoured to the teeth, with hard looks on their faces. It was no wonder the dwarf was nervous. "How much?"

"Err...Serah?" The merchant looked at Maric, licking his lips at the sight of the Mabari's kaddis, no doubt confused by the fearsome warpaint. "Ah, pardon me...fifty gold for such a rarity, but for the champion of Kirkwall I'll of course-"

"Sold." Garrett interrupted the dwarf, tossing a pouch of coins onto the table. "With some change to go." He swept up the spyglass and tied it to his belt where the pouch had been a moment ago. Before him, the dwarf, used to haggling, was staring open-mouthed at him. "Spend the money wisely." Garrett turned his head, looking to one of his soldiers. Pip, having barely survived the High Dragon's attack, still looked young, but his eyes were harder, fixed on Garrett, ready for his every command. "Time?"

The man held up the hourglass he'd been so careful with throughout their journey through Kirkwall. "It's up, Serah." He lowered it, straightening. "Ready, on your order."

Garrett took a deep breath, the confused question by the confused dwarf before him nothing but a garbled sound as the noble felt his destiny beckon. _Too late to turn back now, Meredith has made her position clear, so this is the only way_..._damn_ _her_. "Do it."

Pip nodded, and the man next to him brought curled horn of ivory to his lips.

The tone was clear and rose above the din of the city with ease, reaching up towards a cloudless sky...and a moment later it was greeted by dozens more, the whole city seemingly coming alive with the mysterious call. Before Garrett, the dwarf stared. "Wh-what's..." Then Garrett turned around, decisive steps marching back up the street, his entourage on his heels. "...oh shit." Behind him, Garrett heard the dwarf suddenly scoop up the contents on his table and begin to pack.

_This is it_.

Turning a corner, Garrett saw the Circle tower. Though still distant, it rose up like a fortress in front of him, defying any mortal to try and seize it. Garrett didn't slow though, and behind him, his throng of troops grew as a large group of his soldiers suddenly exited a tavern and moved to follow.

_A last roll of the die, a __dangerous__ roll_.

Garrett wanted to slow down, but couldn't, it was too late, and any delay now would only endanger the plan before it had even had a chance. From an alley to his right, more of his troops appeared, abandoning the carts they had been escorting towards the docks.

_But I must, for the city's sake, there's no other alternative_. _Meredith forced me into this_.

To his left, Charles Reinhart appeared, his family by now in Orlais. The noble was dressed in dark plate armour that the old stick of a man clearly struggled in, but the men and women at his back looked hard; Orlesian and Nevarran veterans, covered in darkened plate armour. Garrett offered Charles a nod, though the other noble didn't notice, his face pale and his wide eyes staring straight ahead.

_It's all her fault_.

Near a small chapel, there was a ruffle as dozens of dark cloaks were discarded, the armour beneath glittering as the pilgrims transformed into warriors. From three covered wagons, the inhabitants jumped out and joined Garrett's growing group, halberds held high.

_But I'll still save the city from her, I __will__ be Viscount_.

Even as Garrett narrowed his eyes, his steps growing more determined as he drew closer to the Circle tower, more and more people joined him.

A theatre emptied, the guards of the many nobles forming ranks behind him, the nobles themselves hurrying to put on armour.

A bathhouse's doors opened in a rush of steam, the soldiers within shouldering aside some wide-eyed bystanders as they moved to join Garrett.

A local warehouse's large gates opened, spewing forth nobles and their entourages.

Garrett kept his gaze fixed forward through all that, his determination growing with each man and woman added to the ranks behind him. And though he didn't look, he knew that on the two streets parallel to his, columns of soldiers were also growing, like rivers growing in size as various streams joined the flow.

Ahead, the Circle tower loomed, larger than ever, a majestic building, created by the Tevinters long ago and now mastered by the Templars...and soon, the nobles and mages of Kirkwall.

The walls protecting the tower in the centre was how Garrett remembered them. Impossibly tall, smooth, elegant...and imposing. Yet for all that, there were precious few guards atop them, and given their duties, they were looking inwards, rather than outwards.

Garrett felt his mouth go dry as he sped up, his pulse suddenly racing.

_This is it, this is the hour, the moment of change is upon us_.

The gates were closed, but Garrett wasn't too worried about it, there had been no warning flash of light from atop the circle tower, after all. Before the gate, a mere two templars stood, and neither had even noticed the approaching horde of warriors.

Instead, their attention was fixed on a pair of Isabela's 'friends'. The barely dressed women smiled with practised ease at the men as they refilled ceramic cups, chatting amiably, the looks on the two guards telling Garrett there had been more than one teasing comment in the talks, making them distracted and thirsty for more than the cheap wine they'd drunk too much of.

_Perfect_.

"_Vanguard_..._forward_." Garrett's words were a whisper, forcing him to swallow and try again. "Vanguard, forward."

At once, six of the men behind Garrett started to run, jogging past him with lowered halberds.

"Get the ram." Was Garrett's next order, and more men turned and went for an innocently parked cart at the side of the road. The side gave way to the easy pull of a lever, and the smoothened tree-trunk with a metal point was revealed, making men grunt and curse as they hefted it up and put it between themselves.

Only now, did the guards at the gate notice the flood of soldiers coming at them, their eyes turning wide as saucers at the unexpected sight.

The man on the right turned pale as a sheet, just staring, not even noticing the woman shooting Isabela a wink before running away. The man on the left though, moved to draw his sword...and then fell to the ground with a crash of metal and ceramic as the prostitute next to him shattered the jug of wine on his head.

"Nice!" Isabela exclaimed in approval even as Garrett shot a worried look up at the wall's battlements, yet none had looked down at the noise yet. _They will in a moment, there's no way this can go unnoticed for much longer_. Ahead, the remaining guard was raising his hands, back pressed against the wall as four halberds nearly pushed their points into his face. The two other halberdiers had grabbed the unconscious templar and dragged him aside

"Keep those under guard." Garrett needlessly told the men even as he turned at the mass of soldiers behind him. He felt himself sweating, felt himself frightened, _despite_ having planned it all. Still, he kept his voice cool, that of a leader. "Ram!"

Above, there was suddenly a shout of alarm, coloured more by confusion than fear.

Then the men carrying the ram grunted and ran straight at the gate.

The gate was heavy, but not secured by the heavy bolt used during sieges, only with a minor latch. As such, the ram smashed the doors in on the first hit, swinging them inwards with enough forced to make the walls shudder with the impact.

Within, the four templars Garrett knew would be there stared at Garrett and his troop in shock and wonder. One of them lay on his side, clutching his shoulder, the grey-haired man likely having been struck by the doors as they swung inwards. The other three, young enough to be recruits, clutched their spears in fright, one even remembering to lever it at those coming in through the gate.

Garrett rushed forward, brushing the thrust spear-point aside with a forearm and, before his startled foe could retreat, stepped on his forward foot and slapped a backhand across his face, making him cry out and fall onto his back, his spear lost and forgotten as the hard plates of Garrett's gauntlet bloodied the youngster's cheek. "Drop your weapons!" The bark was reinforced by the sight of a dozen soldiers surrounding the templars, spears and glaives ready to strike at them. Garrett softened his words. "Drop them and you won't get hurt."_ Because that's the last thing I want, as little blood as possible, we're to push Meredith, not cut at her_.

Slowly, hesitantly, the three young men dropped their spears while the veteran growled something under his breath and drew his sword before throwing it aside with a disgusted grunt.

Nodding to Pip to take care of the guards, Garrett turned and drew breath to shout out his orders...only to find it pointless, his troops quietly and effectively doing exactly as they'd been instructed to do.

There were only a few templars patrolling the wide space between the walls and the tower, and those were swiftly surrounded by light-footed Rivaini mercenaries, raised javelins and lowered spears making any resistance pointless as each individual templar became surrounded by six foes.

On the walls, there were no battlements facing inwards, and so the templars atop them suddenly found crossbows from the ground below taking aim at them. Meanwhile, contingents of nobles rushed up the stairs, a mass of armour and blades that left no question to the outcome for each templar they met, making them surrender with nary a fight.

The walls and courtyard were his, for the price of a bloodied cheek.

Garrett, relieved that the first, critical, step had been achieved so effectively, turned to face the tower itself, the gates to it almost as large as those of the walls. "Secure the gate! Ready the ram!"

Before the command had even been echoed down the line though, the gates before him opened, making him blink in surprise.

Coming out into the light was first a good fifty templars. But all had their hands bound behind their backs, eyes wide in shock, confusion and fear. Behind them marched mages, young and old, staffs pushing at the backs of the templars even as they grinned wide, exulting in their victory in a way Garrett had never seen. _Maker, it's a wonder their faces aren't breaking_.

Pressing through the throng, Orsino appeared, hands spread wide, he too grinning wide, half in amazement, half in elation. "Noble Champion! I...we did it! We took them _completely_ by surprise!" He laughed, a hint of hysteria in the sound, disbelief. "Not a templar could _believe_ it when we came for them! They hardly put up a fight at all!" Behind him, a young mage whooped in agreement, triggering a cheer among his peers and making the faces of the templars turn red. "The tower is ours! And you've taken the walls and courtyard! We...we _did_ it!" Orsino moved closer, almost hugging Garrett before he remembered himself, offering a hand.

"We did." Garrett grinned back, gripping the mage's forearm so tight the elf's features flickered with a hint of pain before the noble remembered himself. _This will work, thank goodness, it'll work_! Even as the excitement of finally getting things his way gripped him, Garrett spoke. "But we're not halfway there yet, now is the time for delicacy, and that's almost harder." Orsino nodded, face a little grimmer as he acknowledged Garrett's authority, but his eyes still shone with excitement.

Behind Garrett, a robed feature spoke up, voice a low growl. "What of the Templars we took?"

Garrett blinked, turning even as he felt every captive templar stare at him in fright. "We release them, of course, you know that, Anders." Ignoring the breath of relief coming from the templars, Garrett frowned. "We're here to claim our rights, not to fight."

"Of course, Serah." Anders bowed his head, making Varric standing next to him grimace. "Just wanted _them_ to know that."

_Ah, of course_. Nodding in gratitude to the mage, Garrett turned to the captured Templars, now nearly a hundred after those his troops had taken had been added to those the mages had overwhelmed. "You are all free to go, in fact, I ask you to go to Meredith and tell her what has happened here. Tell her...tell her that if she wants her mages back, if she wants them to remain _good_ mages, if she wants them _back_, she better come here and talk to us." He let the words sink in, then smirked and added for effect. "And if she doesn't...well then I can't guarantee they'll _stay_ good mages."

_That ought to get her running_.

Garrett, grinning at the Templars even as their bonds were cut, felt it all slide into place.

_I __will__ be Viscount_.

8

8

8

_Maker no_!

Cullen, all colour drained from his face, ran as fast as he could in his heavy armour, a few steps behind an equally pale Carver.

The news was spreading along the ranks even now, the whole city was awash with rumours and whispers even as the Templar Keep went silent, not a man or woman within daring to speak up as the news reached their ears.

With a crash, Carver shouldered his way through a door, Cullen stumbling after.

Within, Meredith looked up from her desk, a quill still pressed on a paper. "Yes? What is it?" Her frown faded at the sight of the two breathless men, a flash of worry in her eyes as she cast her gaze to Cullen. "Did Hawke...decline our offer to make him Viscount?" Cullen and Carver exchanged a look, for all his anger, even Carver couldn't believe what was happening. Before them, Meredith's voice wavered. "Wh-What's happened?"

Swallowing, Cullen turned back to face the woman, knowing he needed to speak up. "I...never met him, Commander. When I reached his estate, it was empty, not a man woman or child within."

"What?" Meredith frowned in confusion.

"He.." Cullen struggled for words. What could he say? That Garrett had done something terrible? That Cullen had been a fool? Or that everything had suddenly turned horribly wrong?_ If I'd been faster than him, if I'd met him, if I'd told him what we were prepared to do_... Somehow, Cullen managed to become even paler. "I don't know what to...Hawke has...he's...he's..."

"He took the Circle tower." Carver pressed out, the man devoid of the usual anger and envy. For all the man's qualms about Garrett, even _he_ couldn't come to terms with what had happened. "He...he marched troops into the tower and..._took_ it." The man shook his head slowly. "C-commander...all the mages, _all_ of them...he has them."

Before them, Meredith stared at them, the woman seemingly having turned into a statue.

Cullen swallowed, then took a deep breath. "All the templars within were thrown out, they're in the courtyard right now, unharmed, which is something." He hesitated. "Th-they came with a message, a message from Ha-Hawke."

Meredith's answer was silence and an empty stare.

Cullen looked to Carver, who stared back and shrugged, the man too rattled to remember their earlier hostility or even his anger with Garrett. Hesitating, Cullen looked back to the unmoving Meredith. "He...he wishes to speak to you about the mages, about his terms for...giving them back." 

_If only I'd been faster, if only_..._Maker, no_...

Carver, voice surprisingly soft, muttered his words. "Commander...I...the mages are _unguarded_, when the Divine hears of this..." Carver swallowed. "Maker, he's killed us all."

Suddenly, the quill in Meredith's hand snapped.

The woman remained still, but in her eyes, dark clouds gathered...

And Cullen felt himself tremble at the sight of it.

_Maker, no_...

8

8

8

_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for her amazingness._


	88. Chapter 88

_It almost looks peaceful_.

Standing in one of the larger offices within the Circle tower, hands behind his back, Garrett gazed out through the large circular window dominating the far wall, scanning the city below with a calm he was surprised to feel. It was too late for second guesses now, for doubt and fear. Now it was all or nothing... there was a freedom in it... and Garrett could almost understand why so many liked to be uncompromising and zealous... it was simpler, _easier_.

Below, Kirkwall stretched out before him. There was less smoke rising from it than before, less movement of people. Less sound too, Garrett knew, despite the window muffling it. Despite the sun being up, a fiery orange dawn against a scattering of grey clouds, it was almost as if the metropolis was still asleep.

Garrett wasn't fooled though, the city wasn't asleep, it was waiting, holding its breath, afraid, not daring to move in case it would be struck down by the situation brewing in its heart.

He couldn't see many templars, with his troops on the walls surrounding the tower, they were being careful and consigning themselves to the city streets just outside, out of sight, but close enough if needed. Still, Garrett had a good assessment of them, his gang of Cats kept him up to date by aid with signals used by mirrors.

As such, he knew that the templars around the tower's walls were fairly few, maybe two thousand, all guarding the exits in case someone should try to leave. Of the rest, eight thousand were securing Kirkwall's outer walls and gates, some patrolling the streets in strength, others storming the abandoned estates of the nobles, surely trying to find something incriminating. The remaining twenty thousand were still in and around the Templar Keep, getting outfitted, getting briefed, being prepared...for what, not even the templars knew, Garrett guessed.

Garrett wasn't alone in the room though. Behind him, sitting on the central desk dominating the room, Anders had his back to Garrett, his dark cloak and hood making him seem smaller than he really was, as pale blue eyes intently stared at the door at the other side of the room. Since entering the tower, the man hadn't said a word, perhaps overcome by old memories...though there was something eerie with his calm, as if he knew _exactly_ how it would play out.

Garrett, for all his calm, envied that feeling of certainty.

Further back, Orsino had his hands behind his back, his finer cloak swishing against the stone floor as he paced back and forth, his fine elven features drawn up in thought and worry, head lowered. For all his earlier confidence, the man now seemed afraid.

Garrett, standing still, closed his eyes and drew a deep breath.

_We can do this, __I__ can do this_.

As if to express doubt about that, the door behind him crashed open.

Slowly turning, Garrett took in the scene before him with analytical eyes, gauging the situation.

Anders had stayed seated. Only his hands had moved, palms pressing against one another in front of his mouth, cold eyes looking straight ahead. Despite having his back to Garrett, the man somehow seemed...pleased.

Orsino had frozen mid-pace, hands now in front of him, as if trying to ward off an attack as he leant back, his attempt at a defiant look looking more like a shaky sneer.

And by the doorway, Meredith stood.

In full armour, the black plates of a Templar Commander, she looked even taller than she was, the impression reinforced by the fine dark greatsword on her back, a gift from Garrett that looked like it'd always had been hers now. Her hard features, already iron, seemed to have been forged into steel. Her eyes were the worst though, holding a cold rage within them, like ice hellbent on shattering the rock before it.

The woman was sizing the group before her up, her lips a thin line as the cold anger within her eyes seemed to only grow and grow with each person marked down. Slowly, she took a step into the room, and then another, eyes scanning the walls suspiciously, perhaps fearing an ambush. _Like I'd risk that, violence is the __last__ thing we want now_. Behind her, Maric appeared, the hound having lead her to the chamber. Now, as silent as a footpad, he closed the door, leaving the four alone and undisturbed while the Mabari dutifully kept guard outside. _Thank you_.

His full attention on Meredith, Garrett watched the woman's steps slow, her head twisting and turning as she looked across the room. When she spoke, the words were unexpected. "I'm impressed." She looked up, at the ceiling. "No bodies on spikes, no altars, no body parts hanging from hooks..." She turned, cold eyes flashing as she focused them on a wincing Orsino. "You keep up appearances well, _apostate_."

Garrett took a step forward, hands still behind his back. "Don't be ridiculous-"

"Ridiculous!?" Meredith echoed, gaze snapping over to him. "The mages are unsupervised by templars, they've attacked their charges and work alongside a man who shares a _bed_ with an apostate." Meredith made an angry gesture at the still sitting Anders. "And with a criminal apostate who's waged a war on us for _years_!" The man didn't answer her accusation, he only smirked, seemingly content to watch in silence. "_What_ is so ridiculous!?"

Garrett groaned inwardly. _This isn't starting well_. "For starters, they've been without templar supervision for an _hour_...do you think they've all descended into mad blood-magic in that little time?" He managed a pale smile. "If you do...then the next few _days_ will be hell for you."

Again, Meredith echoed his words, but this time more uncertain, worried. "_Days_?"

Orsino, having found his courage once more, nodded, his tone hard. "Days, weeks, _months_...as long as it _takes_ for you to come to your senses."

"You don't make demands of _me_, mage." Meredith snorted, rising to her full height.

Orsino, despite being far shorter than the templar, glared back with heat. "Oh yes I do, _templar_. The tower is _ours_, we have supplies for over a _year_, and you have _no_ power here now."

The words, full of confidence, made Meredith take a step back, the anger in her eyes not faltering, but a twitch of her lips showing a hint of worry. Garrett, quick to capitalise, took a step forward. "Indeed, and while it's ridiculous to think the mages have already fallen to the allure of blood magic, in a few _months_, however..." He left the rest unsaid, Meredith's imagination doing more than his words ever could.

Meredith looked uncertain for but a moment, then shook her head, raising an angry finger to point at Garrett and Orsino in turn. "_No_! You do _not_ try to control or rule _me_! Templars are above secular law, and _certainly_ above mages!"

Orsino, crossing his arms over his chest, smiled. "Doesn't look like that right now, Meredith..."

"You have _failed,_ Meredith." Garrett snapped, then quickly continued as Meredith opened her mouth to protest. "You have lost control of the tower due to your few guards, because of your _fear_ of mages. You have driven the mages here to rebellion, a rebellion not coming at the best of times with mage-templar tensions already on the rise throughout Thedas. You have turned the entire _city_ against you in a world where the templars are already viewed with suspicion." He paused, but this time Meredith didn't speak, unable to protest the words as she mutely shook her head. "And when my letter reaches the Divine, explaining the _magnitude_ of your failure...well you'll be lucky if you just lose your command. You'll at least be replaced, hopefully by someone less..._zealous_ in her duties, maybe even _lax_..." The last words, the twisting of the knife, made Meredith grimace.

Orsino softened his tone, the mage's anger easy to extinguish by his desires. "It doesn't have to be that way though, Commander...the letter can still be stopped, this disagreement put to an end. All you need to do is _listen_."

"I...I..." Meredith took a step back, then another one, eyes full of confusion and fear of a situation she was ill-equipped to handle. But then they narrowed, the woman shaking her head. "N-no, I will _not_ falter, I will _not_ surrender, I am the righteous sword of the _Maker_ and my cause is _just_!" She shot Garrett a glare, only to then chuckle and look away. "And to think I was _that_ close to offering you the Viscount seat...what a fool I was."

Garrett's face turned grim even as Orsino shot him a worried look. _Lies, you were not, do not try to fool me, you'd never give up power willingly_. "You didn't, live with the consequences." He took a deep breath, calming himself. _Focus_. "Now, you might think yourself just and righteous and whatnot, but that doesn't change the _facts_. You have no control over your mages, you have no control of the tower, you are about to be _replaced_ as Knight-Commander. All this, you can prevent if you for _once_ agree to make concessions. One agreement, and you're back in control, like nothing has happened."

Meredith snorted at the notion, but didn't dismiss it, making Garrett nod to Orsino to continue the verbal attack. "We'll come quietly, we'll submit to your authority, but with addendum to how we should be treated, written down."

Again, Meredith remained silent, her glare going from Orsino to Garrett, then back again.

Orsino shot Garrett a questioning look, making him shrug. The First Enchanter shrugged back, then turned his attention back to Meredith. "First of all, no punishment will be meted out for what we've done here. Second, authorizing making someone tranquil will no longer be for you alone to decide, but for you and your captains, as well as me and two senior enchanters, to decide by committee." Meredith snorted, but Orsino didn't seem to be phased. "We won't be unreasonable, Meredith, we _too_ desire to keep the tower safe from mages too susceptible to possession."

Meredith, her eyes still glowing with rage, took a deep breath...and then gestured for Orsino to continue, the woman refusing to look at him now.

Orsino straightened, a light of eagerness in his eyes as he spoke. "Thirdly, no templar may harm or otherwise abuse a mage unless the mage is in some way violating the rules of magic and behaviour. Any accusations of a templar not following such rules will be subject to our committee, with punishments up to expulsion of the order being available. Further, any mage who _does_ violate such rules will _also_ be subject to that committee, with punishments up to being made tranquil being available." Orsino took a deep breath. "Then there's only some minor things. More books of varied topics made available in the library. Easier access to passes to go into town, of course with an escort. No templars in the sleeping dormitories unless invited. And of course, a rule that any mage is obligated to report another mage not obeying the rules or being suspicious."

Meredith frowned as the list finally ended.

For what felt like a long time, silence reigned.

When she spoke, it was with suspicion. "That last rule...already exists."

Orsino chuckled and smiled. "Yes, but now we'll actually _obey_ it."

Meredith, unfamiliar to humour, shot the mage a glare. "Why would you?"

Sighing, Orsino rubbed his temples. "You still don't understand...look, Meredith, we _want_ to be in the tower, we're safer here than among the public...but we also want to _like_ it here. Right now, we _don't_, we _hate_ it, we _fear_ it...and _that_ is why we're here now." Orsino shook his head. "Don't you understand? We don't obey the rule, _not_ to cover for other mages, but out of spite of those who make our home so _insufferable_!" Somehow, Orsino managed to soften his words and glare as he spoke again. "Allow us to enjoy our stay, allow us to _feel_ at home...and we'll protect that home as surely and bravely as any templar." His shoulders sagged as he stared at Meredith. "We don't want to be your enemy, but neither do we want to be your _victim_...let us be a, if not a friend, then at least an _ally_ against that which threatens to destroy our home."

Meredith, looking tired, was shaking her head at the mage, but not with the fervour Garrett had expected, only weary. "How can I trust your words after _this_...? How can I..." A sigh, and Meredith turned weary eyes to Garrett. "And you? You want your seat as Viscount, I suppose? The Viscount Keep and full authority to rule the city and take its taxes, I suppose?"

Garrett, feeling almost silly after Orsino's long rant, inclined his head in ascent.

"Take them." What? Garrett blinked in shock as Meredith looked back to Orsino. "It's a bloody mess, Kirkwall, the negatives outweighing the gains by now...can't rule it even if I wanted to any more." Then, she shot him a glance, eyes flaring with anger. "But for _this_...I'm considering making you an _extremely_ short-lived Viscount."

Still in shock, Garrett barely managed to speak. "Well...the no repercussions for this that Orsino mentioned would include me and my nobles as well..."

Meredith ignored him, her gaze fixed on Orsino. "But as for _you_...I understand what you are saying, it might even be a noble goal...but for all you've done here, you should be happy I don't execute you on the spot!"

Orsino glared back. "You listened to my demands, they're _not_ open for debate. Take them or leave them...but then you will have to live with the consequences. We can hold this tower for ages, if need be!"

"Hey now, let's not be too rash here.." Garret raised his hands, eager not to see his victory slip out of his grasp. "I'm sure we can form some agreement." _Maybe some minor punishment for the mages for this and less of all his demands met_..._but enough to make all parties happy_..._and me Viscount_.

"Consequences?" Meredith snorted at Orsino, new-found brazenness in her voice. "You think you can hold this tower on your own? Or do you delude yourself into thinking Hawke and his nobles here will help you, now that I've agreed to give him what you want?" Orsino turned his head, eyes wide as he stared at Garrett...and saw the truth in Meredith's statement. Grimacing, Garrett met his gaze. _Get as best a deal as you can while you still have a position to negotiate from, but I won't sacrifice my people for some extra books in your library_. Meredith's voice was cool. "Tell me why I shouldn't annul the whole bloody Circle...I might agree to simply put you all in isolation for the next _year_." Meredith's gaze was cold, hard, merciless.

If he hadn't felt so pleased, Garrett would have felt sorry for Orsino and intervened, but as it was, he wasn't about to endanger his winnings.

Orsino though, surprisingly, only looked afraid for a moment. He shot Garrett a glare, then scowled at Meredith as he straightened. "If you think to threaten me, Meredith, you are a fool. You do _not_ want to wage battle with me, you'll _lose_." He took a deep breath, he was shaking, yet seemed determined. "I'll destroy your templars in a single stroke, the battle will be over before you even know it's _begun_." He paused, managing a smirk. "Tell her, Anders, tell her _why_ the battle's already lost and she should submit to our demands."

Garrett, puzzled, turned his gaze to the mage that so far hadn't said a word. _What are they on about_...? The question left an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. One reinforced as they all turned to look at the man.

Still sitting on the desk, his hands now on the edge of it as he leant forward, Anders seemed like a statue, some grim gargoyle on a Tevinter dungeon. He was smiling, a flash of white teeth against pale skin and deep scars. "_Battle_...?" The word was a whisper, a hint of mockery in them.

Garrett felt a shiver run down his spine, something about his friend's behaviour...frightening.

"There will _be_ no battle..." Behind him, Garrett felt Orsino grin. "...there will be a _war_."

Orsino coughed. "What are you-"

Before them, Anders' eyes flashed, pale blue light...and the mage's mouth split in an even wider grin.

Behind him, through the window, a red light suddenly appeared, then grew...and _rose_...

Garrett felt his jaw drop as the distant Chantry, one of the city's landmarks, simply...disappeared, dozens of city-blocks along with it. Instead, a red cloud of blossoming fire was shooting up into the air, like a living inferno, it raked at the skies with claws of red lightning. The top of the light reached the clouds, turning them orange as blue and white lightning crackled through them, meeting the unnatural light coming up from the ground.

A moment later, the red fire shrunk, turning into a solitary thread connecting the sky and ground...and below, nothing but stones and bones remained.

The red light shot back down, slamming into the ground like an arrow cast from the sky...and the ground exploded into a cloud of dust, a tidal wave striking out in all directions, sweeping through the city, sweeping towards _them_.

The tower shook, the very stones under Garrett's feet creaking with the impact...and then suddenly, it was over, the view outside one of devastation as the Chantry and the homes surrounding it had been reduced to nothing but rubble.

It was unreal, Garrett had barely heard a sound...yet now part of the city had been annihilated? He could not make it fit together and could only stare in horror and shock.

Behind him, Orsino's voice was a low whisper. "Anders...what have you done?" 

Garrett managed to slowly move his gaze to Anders, who met his with a knowing calm, the smile not fading from his mouth as he spoke. "The revolution is at hand, Hawke, no matter if you want it or not."

Meredith, growling an oath, drew her blade, making Garrett draw his own and spin around while edging towards a wall, his gaze darting between all others in the room, not sure which one was the threat.

Orsino had fallen to his knees, clutching his heart as he stared at Anders in utter horror...and the still mage looked back with a calm look on his face.

Meredith was the first to speak, her words a loud bark. "You treacherous monsters! You've killed every priest in Kirkwall! You've murdered thousands! I'll see you all _burn_ for this!"

"No!" Garrett, panicking, lowered his blade and took a step forward. "This was not our plan, Meredith! You _must_ believe me! I had no part in this! And look at Orsino, he's _horrified_!" He pointed his blade at the smug-looking Anders, disgusted with the man as much as himself pointing him out. "It's _he_ who did it! Just _look_ at him!"

"A tower full of apostates fighting against the righteous templars, you as their leader and you expect me to _believe_ you!? _Now_!?" Meredith snarled in fury. "Again, I've proven myself _weak_ in negotiation with you and your ilk! You are _all_ as guilty! You've all aided and worked with him! You claim innocence, but all I see is lies, magic and _falsehood_!" She raised her blade in a high guard, the enchanted dragonbone shimmering, eager for blood even as its user took a step back, seemingly unsure who to strike first. "He did not do this on his own! How could he!? He had help! And since I don't know from whom, I'll kill you _all_!"

"There's no need for that!" Garrett, panicking, gestured at Anders again. "_Look at him_! _He's_ the one you want! We...we can launch an _investigation_! Anyone who helped him will be found and tried, I promise! But don't punish the innocent! Don't do anything _rash_!"

"Rash!?" Meredith repeated, shaking her head. "No, no you're a _fool_ if you think I'll heed another word you say!" She narrowed her eyes at him. "Clever you, getting me away from my army under a _pretence_ of negotiating. What will you do now? Kill me and hope Cullen isn't made of as stern stuff? He'll butcher the lot of you!"

For a moment, Garrett considered the alternative, then he shook it aside. _No, I can't, I __must__ save this_! "Meredith, no! You get it all wrong! You're free to leave, do so as a sign of good faith on my part and I _promise_ I'll find all responsible for this and hand them to you within a _day_!"

Meredith was backing towards the door, blade still raised as her voice turned into a low growl. "You'll pay for this...oh you'll _pay_...I will not be fooled, not again."

"Meredith, _please_!" Garrett sheathed his blade and held up his hands, pleading. "Give me a day! One day and I'll hand over _all_ of those who did this! I promise!"

Meredith held his gaze for but a moment, then snarled and kicked the door open before turning and running, a prayer on her lips.

Taking a step after her, Garrett shouted. "I _promise_, damn it!"

The only answer he got was her rapidly disappearing footsteps.

Silence.

Deathly, cold, _frightening_, silence.

Slowly, Garrett turned to face Anders, finding the man still sitting on the desk, smiling, calm. "_You_..."

"No, not me..." Anders smirked. "...this was not me."

On his knees, Orsino sniffled, the First Enchanter now a broken man.

Anders, ignoring the elf, held Garrett's horrified gaze. "This was _Justice_."

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson, for being so impatient._


	89. Chapter 89

Garrett was sweating.

Outside, the sun was absent, the blast having drawn in clouds to cast a carpet across the city. It left Kirkwall with a coldness unfamiliar to the city, something more akin to autumn in Ferelden...yet here, the cold was unnatural, the chilly quietness creeping into the bones like no cold Fereldian wind could do.

Yet still, Garrett was sweating.

He was outside, in the small open ground in front of one of the gates to the wall around the Circle tower. Within every building, there was movement, the clatter of armour and the hostile glares of templars. Garrett couldn't tell how many there were by now, but their numbers around the Circle Tower's defences were rapidly growing.

Though Garrett considered himself brave, he wasn't in a hurry to rush to his death, and at the moment, he knew the chances of him escaping the situation alive were diminishing by the moment. _Damn Anders, damn him all to hell_! Garrett straightened and took a deep breath, feeling himself shivering in fear. _All I wanted was the Viscount's seat, a proper balance of power and...Maker, not all this, not thi_s...

Far in the distance, he could see the mark left by Anders' deed. From the low street, it looked nothing like a disaster, just an abrupt..._end_ to the city. As if someone had started building the city from scratch a little while ago and simply hadn't finished with one part of it. But the disaster was real enough, the dead real enough...thousands, _more_...Garrett could almost _feel_ their souls slip by into the next world. He gritted his teeth, hating how much of Kirkwall's bloody history he knew, and how frail the veil to the fade was. _This wasn't how it was supposed to go_.

The thought made him look down, at his prisoners, to glare at them with all the hate he felt pumping in his veins.

The tower had been chaotic after the disaster and Meredith's exit, with the nobles and mages nearly coming to blows when a panicking noble had suggested ousting out all the mages to the templars and hoping for the best. There had been shouting, drawn swords...and a mage killing herself in a fit of terror, another only adding oil to the flames by trying to use her blood to power his magic in defence of his fellow mages...luckily other mages had stopped him or Garrett was sure the whole tower would have exploded in a clash that would have left whatever survivors at the mercy of Meredith.

It had taken all of Garrett's authority, rhetoric and will to calm things and restore order...at the end, he'd felt like he'd gotten more than a few more grey hairs. He'd reminded them all of how much they now needed one another if they were to get out alive. He'd barked loud and hard at every dissenter, battering them down with hard words and harder eyes. He'd called for a hunt for all responsible, all involved in Anders' heinous crime, dangling the carrot of survival in front of them all while beating them with the stick of threats what would happen if they failed to bring all responsible before Meredith.

Even so, Garrett was anything but sure that Meredith would be satiated by the blood of only those responsible. He'd seen her eyes before she'd left, horrified, terrified...but also strangely relieved, for now the situation had become so much simpler for her...

Garrett didn't like where such reasoning brought him.

Finding the culprits had been easy enough. Terrified, the mages had stumbled over one another to report every little bit of suspicious activity by others. Some had been so scared they'd confessed right on the spot, others had broken down as accusation after accusation had been levelled at them. It hadn't exactly been a proper trial, but they'd been short on time.

The ones who'd worked with Anders were a varied lot. From Orsino the First Enchanter, to two senior enchanters, a well-respected teacher, some students, a librarian and even an eleven year old slip of an elf girl who'd already wet herself thrice since being grabbed by one of Garrett's soldiers. All bound and gagged, the criminals numbered thirteen, Anders and his twelve accomplices. Three had insisted upon their innocence until the moment they were gagged, and Garrett didn't doubt that one or two actually were innocent...but there was no time for further investigation or giving the benefit of the doubt, he needed to bring _all_ possible criminals before Meredith.

Kneeling in the dirt, their hands bound behind their backs, not a mage met Garrett's gaze. Orsino still looked broken, the man's eyes vacant at he stared at the ground, lost in his grief and regret. Others were trembling, one or two rocking back and forth, muttering prayers. The little elf was crying, a steady stream of terrified tears pouring down her face. A few were still struggling with their bonds, terrified, yet unable to do anything even if they got free as some of Garrett's men stood behind them with ready weapons.

The onnly one with a raised head was Anders, the man looking straight ahead, the gag curling around his mouth as he offered the distant sight of his massacre a small smile. Of all of them, he was the only one who looked at peace, calm, even _serene_, the man was pleased even as he was marched to his death.

Garrett wanted to kick him.

"You're an idiot, you know." Garrett shook his head, unable to keep himself from spitting the words. "A monster, even...all those deaths...for what? A _war_? A civil war across all of Thedas between mages and templars? One that your side will _lose_? And all the innocent who'll die...had you no thought for them? Where's _their_ justice!?"

Turning his head, Anders looked up at him...and smiled.

Garrett kicked him, sending the mage tumbling face first to the ground. "Justice!? You value some deranged _mutation_ of the concept more than you value lives! How...what kind of person does that!?"

Anders, grunting, sat back up. Even without the gag, Garrett realised the mage wouldn't answer him.

It had hurt to see the reactions of his companions at the revelation of what had happened, of what Anders had done.

Varric, shaking his head, had said nothing. Merrill had looked away, biting her bottom lip. Isabela had looked disgusted, but calm.

None had looked surprised, none had been shocked...they'd known Anders would do something stupid one day_. Varric had even warned me, as had Merrill, I_..._how could I have been so blind as to not see that_? The answer was simple. _Arrogance, ambition, focused solely on my advancement_..._by Andraste, I was a fool_...

The realisation stung deep. For all his intellect, for all his plans and good ideas, Garrett had stumbled on the finishing line, blinded by hubris.

He kicked Anders again.

Then, finally, there was a distant clatter of approaching horses. Looking up, Garrett felt fresh hope kindling. Cullen was at the front of twenty mounted templars, none with their weapons drawn. His heart sank when they got closer though. Cullen's face was a mask of sadness, weary eyes taking in the sight of Garrett, his men and his prisoners.

Garrett spoke even before Cullen had reined in his horse, the words tumbling out before Garrett could stop them. "In a gesture of good faith, I come bringing the one who detonated the bomb, as well as those who aided him in making it. Meredith, being the one in charge of such affairs, can of course proclaim any judgement over them as she sees fit. I hope, by showing how little we tolerate these acts, that she understands that the rest within the tower are not to blame and that we're still willing to negotiate about a settlement of our quarrels."

Dismounting, Cullen sighed as he met Garrett. He took the nobles hand, shook it...and then let go with a dejected look on his face. "You have my respect, Hawke, but after this..." He looked back, staring at the devastation for in the distance. "...you might understand Meredith's position. She was ambivalent before, if not outright hostile, _now_..." The man shrugged, pale. "...now we give prayers to the Maker."

"Sh-she won't listen?" Garrett swallowed, his lower lip trembling, painfully aware of the nervous coat of sweat soaking his face. "You can't try to...talk to her? Cullen, this will destroy Kirkwall, everything...Meredith must surely understand what rash action might cause, not only here, but in all of _Thedas_."

"With all due respect, Serah, rash action has _already_ been taken." Cullen shot the serene-looking Anders a withering glare, one the mage ignored. Looking back up to Garrett, Cullen shook is head. "I'm..._truly_ sorry, this is a disaster." Garrett could only mutely nod, his insides going cold as true realisation of what the Templar's words mean sunk in. "I'll...take the mages, try to convince Meredith that it's enough but..." The man grimaced. "...you might want to ready your defences...or run away, should you have the chance."

Garrett stared at Cullen even as the man's entourage too dismounted, the templars warily moving forward to take the prisoners from the equally guarded soldiers under Garrett's command. Cullen, not participating, met Garrett's gaze with a sad one of his own. "I didn't mean for all this to happen..." The words felt hollow, stupid.

Cullen nodded though. "I know..." He took a deep breath. "...I hope not to see you on the battlefield, I'm not ready to try to kill the only man that might have restored this city to order."

Garrett, a lump in his throat, nodded. "C-could you tell my br-brother..." A deep breath, the words came from deep within, struggling against his will, old resentment fighting against his wish to at least clear the slate. "...th-that I'm sorry?"

Cullen grimaced, bowing his head. "I will..but I think it's too late for that."

"I...see."

Turning, Garrett began to move back to the tower, each step heavier than the next, feeling like he'd aged ten years in as many minutes.

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The outer wall had fallen in less than two hours.

Garrett had studied siege-craft and the arts of defending and attacking a castle, and had thought he could apply that relatively well to the circle tower and its wall...but Meredith with her years of experience had proven him a fool in his attempt to defend the wall.

The wall, while high, wasn't wide enough to withstand battering rams, especially after templars had attacked them with pickaxes. And with the city so close to the wall, the templars had had an easy time with attacking wherever they wished with little warning given to the defenders. Additionally, the wall was a smooth circle around the tower, with no towers jutting out to aid in raining down arrows down at the base of the wall. Instead the archers had to lean out...making them easy targets for templar bowmen and crossbowmen hiding in the houses just outside.

Garrett had lost a good thirty of his soldiers, and two mages as well, to barely a loss for the templars. He'd also lost the wall, or what was left of it after the templars had brought down multiple sections to face every exit of the tower. Each collapse had created a low battlement of gravel and stones for troops to hide behind as they prepared to defend or attack at a moment's notice. Behind those mounds, patrolling templars kept watch for any sally even as carpenters worked just behind, putting together catapults long stored in pieces within the Templar Keep.

The siege had truly begun.

After the fall of the wall, the tower had once more nearly succumbed to the panic gripping everyone, with all blaming each other, and Garrett, for the loss and thinking themselves doomed. Garrett would probably had been unable to keep order if Meredith hadn't ordered an assault on the tower itself, the woman no doubt motivated to capture the tower as soon as possible and gain access to the mages once more.

The result lay strewn on the inside of what remained of the wall. A good fifty templars lay dead, arrows riddling their bodies or their limbs torn and burnt by magic. The templars might have been trained warriors, able to handle themselves in a fight, and they might be trained in holding back the powers of mages, but the combination was another beast entirely.

Keeping the magic nullified was hard when arrows were thumping into your shield and men died around you. Arrows and spears were hard to deflect when paralysing glyphs appeared all around. Duels were hard to win when the limbs of their foes were ever supplied fresh energy while wounds mended and the ground itself seemed to heave under your feet as the mages worked in concert with the warriors.

The templars had been beaten back without a single loss, and that had managed to restore some spirit into the defenders, a feeling that the situation wasn't entirely hopeless.

Standing on a small balcony, overlooking the Templar's work, Garrett couldn't share in the optimism. Fifty templars was but a drop in the bucket for Meredith, and while the tower was built by the finest Tevinter architects long ago, nothing could withstand the bombardment from onagers and trebuchets forever. And once the tower was ruined enough, once enough entrances had been made...then no teamwork in the world would save them.

Garrett had thought things through since his meeting with Cullen, and though hope was nearly extinguished, there was _one_ thing that might save them. His letter to the Divine ought to have nearly reached her by now, if they could hold on, defend themselves well enough, someone would come to investigate. It would be hard to argue for his case, what with templars now lying dead at his feet, but Garrett appreciated it as his only chance. With the right arguments and proof, he might even still salvage things and become Viscount...

_Such a vain hope_. Garrett grimaced, feeling a pit of self-loathing for it as he felt Merrill press closer, the shaking elf quiet as a mouse next to him as they overlooked the army arrayed before them. _Maker, you, our child, if_..._no, we __must__ make it out, we __must__ hold on_. His arm around her, forgotten during his previous thoughts, tightened its grip.

Ahead, something was moving.

Merrill, her keen elven eyes quicker to focus than his, gasped. Garrett, a second later, groaned, horrified.

Ahead, atop one of the breaches in the wall, thirteen stakes of wood, surrounded by kindling and wood, were raised. Atop each, the mages Garrett had handed over were bound. Anders, in the centre, stood out with his already scared body now covered with blood and bruises as he'd been stripped of his robe.

"Th-they w-wouldn't do that...would they?" Merrill whispered, the elf trembling and pressing close.

Stroking her shoulder, Garrett swallowed. "I...think they are."

Orsino hung limply from his stake. Others were weakly moving, looking around themselves with eyes wide in terror. The little elf, a good two heads shorter than any of the others, was thrashing about, her babbled words lost to the wind. Only Anders stood straight, calmly looking straight ahead.

Shaking his head, Garrett managed to speak. "We...don't need to see this."

"I...think we do." Merrill retorted. "They might have done a bad thing, Anders most of all, but...they deserve witnesses." Though she spoke with a surprising amount of calm, a glance told Garrett that the elf was horrified at the prospect of watching, her face as pale as a sheet.

Someone in templar armour stood up on the wall, raising a large parchment as he began to speak. Though obviously shouting the words, he was too far away for the words to be heard. _It's just a list of accusations_..._like they need them_. Garrett stared in horror, well aware _who_ was reading the parchment. _Carver_..._Maker, how did we end up on different sides in this battle_?

The speech wasn't long, and once done, Carver took a torch offered to him and walked over to the closest stake. Atop, the elf girl screamed in horror as the man lit the wood beneath her feet on fire.

Ignoring her, Carver continued to the rest of the stakes, lighting each in turn, only pausing slightly at Anders' to spit out some insult that none but he and the mage could hear. Anders, still as the stake he was tied to, ignored the templar.

Within a minute, the flames had begun to rise by each stake, making the mages cry out in terror and pain as they writhed in their bindings as much as they could. Even Orsino, having been silent and broken, now cried out in anguish and jerked up where he slouched, smoke hissing from the hem of his robe. Next to him, the elf girl was babbling incoherently, screaming out words seemingly at random as she tossed and turned...and then wailed as a flame caught hold of her robe.

The screams rose in intensity with the growing fire, fires rising ever higher and stronger, turning the screams to strangled coughs as smoke filled the lungs of the burning mages.

Still writhing on her stake, the elf girl was finally enveloped in fire, a living torch screaming and twisting like an obscene banner. Then Orsino followed, the man's skin crumpling into ash as fire ate away at his finely chiselled features. Then another mage, and another mage, succumbed, the fires killing them slowly.

The last to die, seemingly immune to the flames, was Anders. The mage had stayed silent and unmoving the entire time, even as his fellow conspirators died, even as the flames caught hold of his robe, he remained still and silent.

And the flames, beginning to eat away at the mage's flesh, were turning _blue_.

Within moments, the entire stake was swathed in blue fire. Within, the burning Anders raised his head, gazed up at the sky, and _smiled_.

Then the fire rose even higher, and the man was no more.

Squeezing Merrill tightly, Garrett clenched his jaw tight in rage at the sight._ There you go, Anders, you got your martyrdom, ably supplied by Meredith serving it on a platter, as I did your war_..._you_ _won_.

Next to him, Merrill sighed. "I know it's bad...but I can't feel bad for him. He was a friend but...he never was, was he? He used us, from the moment we met him, he used us...and now he betrayed us."

"Yes, love." Garrett swallowed, holding her closer as he placed a protective hand over the slight bulge that had appeared on her belly. _Maker, don't let_..._I can't even think it_. "Yes."

_I need to get you out of here_.

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson, for the keeping me Sherlocked. _


	90. Chapter 90

"Here they come..."

The mutter went down the line, as it had for days on end now, though each time it was with more weariness, less fear and more confidence.

Garrett wasn't sure what he thought of it, but the fact that the defenders seemed more steadfast in their determination to fight was welcome enough. _We can hold them, just a few more days, maybe a week or two, and then the Divine will have sent her agent to investigate, things will be fixed, I'll make sure of proper terms_...

At the moment though, it was hard to think of the future when the immediate moment was brimming with violence, ready to be unleashed.

The large gate to the Tower they stood by had been smashed open days ago, part of the wall above coming down with it, creating a parapet of gravel and stones for the defenders to at least use. On the right side of the gap, a pillar had collapsed, bringing with it part of the ceiling and creating a nigh on impassable hill of broken stones and pieces.

Garrett had placed his troops well with the terrain in mind, though it hadn't required a genius to do so. At the parapet dominating the entrance, a mixture of the soldiers he and his nobles commanded stood, most carried halberds, but at the front, some with shields and spears also stood to make the line even more sturdy. On the right side, just to be sure no enemy fool would try to climb the steep hill or ruins, half a dozen of Reinhart's finest men, clad in plate and carrying shields and swords, made the route impossible to take. And at the rear, atop a staircase overlooking the chamber, the archers and mages not higher up in the Tower, mixed, ready to lend their aid.

Beyond, there was even more devastation.

The Templars had tried multiple assaults by now, and though each didn't bring many casualties, they had mounted, leaving the killing zone between the Tower and ruined wall strewn with dead Templars. Men and women brought down by arrow and magic, by a battle that shouldn't have been.

Beyond, the wall rose here and there in sections, the spaces between nothing but broken mounds of stone. Protecting the besiegers and the ominous catapults that had been erected. Behind them, the Templars had occupied entire city blocks for their troops, evicting the previous owners, or at least what few who hadn't already fled from fear of being so close to the siege. Beyond, more houses had been turned to ruins, the Templars hacking them down piece by piece to supply ammunition to their siege engines.

The siege was like a cancer, eating away at the city.

Not that the rest was doing any better. The destruction wrought by Anders' deed had been horrible, but the aftermath, the chaos, the lack of leadership, had almost been worse. Everywhere, plumes of black smoke rose as people fought for supplies they knew would be scarce in days...if they already weren't. _Is the city guard even out there anymore_?_ I'm not paying them, and they need food like anyone else_...

Garrett knew he could use the secret tunnel under the Tower to sneak a message out, get in contact with the cats and gain information...but at the moment he didn't dare risk exposing that ace, neither would messages with mirrors do, for they were now carefully watched. Nor did he dare try to use it to smuggle Merrill out, much to his pain. The morale was already shaky as it was, if he made her leave...it wouldn't look good. Nor could she really escape anyway, Meredith had the exits to the city itself locked down tight.

_A mess, all of this, it's just a mess_.

Shaking his head, Garrett focused his attention on the more immediate issue. Ahead, climbing the mounds of gravel that had once been walls, the Templars were coming for yet another assault. Behind, their catapults were unleashing their payloads of crudely hacked stones, making the Tower shake and dust filter down on the defenders, but little else. _Sturdy building, this tower_..._thank the Maker for small mercies_.

The Templar assault was mostly concealed by large screens of wet leather strapped to wooden frames carried by a few Templars. As instructed, the troops above didn't waste ammunition or energy on attacking...only when the Templars had come halfway there, when the leather covers could only really shield against the missiles behind the breach, did those further up on the Tower open up. Arrows, bolts, javelins, fireballs, bolts of lightning and spears of ice hailed down on the assault, making it slow to a crawl.

The Templars had learnt well from the previous engagements though, and the magic missiles all came short of hitting as the magic dissipated. The normal missiles did little better, for between the leather covers, Garrett could see a thick square of Templars advancing with their shields raised, forming a roof upon which arrows and javelins alike simply got stuck into or skidded off.

By now, the defenders could hear them, a rhythmic huffing as the assault-force crept closer.

Behind, there was a mechanical whir as Varric let fly, his bolt neatly sliding in between two shields and making a templar grunt and drop onto her knees, clutching her impaled shoulder. More missiles followed, arrows and crossbow bolts whizzing over the heads of the defending infantry and clattering against the Templars, felling two more as they struggled to maintain their shield-wall.

A fireball struck the roof of shields, scorching the troops beneath as their concentration wavered under the bombardment._ Okay, a few more shots and_...

The commander of the assault force didn't let it come to that, instead there was a shout emanating from the thick phalanx of Templars. "Attack!" _That voice_...

Rising from the roof of shields, Carver pointed his runed great-sword ahead, face grim...and the Templars roared, suddenly surging forth.

Another mechanical whir, and Varric sent a templar onto his back, a bolt sticking out from his visor.

Then they were at the base of the mound, desperately climbing to attack, knowing that the amount of missiles coming their way would be severely limited once in the melee.

One fell almost instantly, looking too much on the ground under her, she never even saw the halberd cutting her arm off at the shoulder. A second, thrusting too wildly with his own spear at a halberdier's legs, rolled back down the mound with a gasp as spear caught him in the hip.

Then the Templars were back into a rough formation, shields raised and spears thrusting from behind them in an effort to force Garrett's soldiers off the mound. With their height advantage and equally long pole-arms though, the soldiers were not going anywhere. Instead the air filled with the cracking sounds of wood striking wood and the duller thumps of steel striking shields as the various pole-arms raked aside enemy thrusts and struck out in an effort to hit an enemy.

There a templar clutched an arm and began pulling back. There a soldier gasped at a bleeding leg and was helped to the rear. There a Templar's helmet and skull split like a grape from a lucky stroke of a halberd. There a soldier screeched, a spear having smashed through his codpiece.

Garrett, standing further back, watched the combat impassively, not too worried. Even as he watched, the wounded soldier returned to the fray, his wound healed, and while the Templars were rapidly tiring in the furious raking aside of enemy thrusts, parries and attacks, his own remained fresh and ready as the mages at the rear invigorated them again and again with spells the soldiers had first feared, but swiftly come to appreciate.

A cry made him turn his head though, gaze straining to see through all the debris on the right mound to make sense of the scene.

_Carver_.

_Despite_ the steep climb, _despite_ being faced by heavily armoured defenders, the best the rich Reinhart could afford, despite being _outnumbered_, the man was making his way up the hill, eyes narrow slits inside his silverite helmet.

One of Reinhart's knights was already dead, lying face down at the bottom of the hill. Even as Garrett watched, Carver stunned a second with a pommel smashing the man's visor in before a follow-up slash of his sword hacked the knight's leg off at the knee. The three remaining were rushing down at him, shields in front of them...and the man faced them, undaunted.

At the last instance, the Templar Captain pressed himself against the wall, sword lowered like a spear, the blade catching a knight between his ankles, sending him tumbling down the hill, right into the hacking blades of a small detachment of Templars following their captain. The second knight, unable to come past the tumbling one, struggled to a stop, then whirled about and came at Carver from the lower end of the hill as the third faced him from above. They charged him from two sides, a sure victory.

Carver didn't cry out in alarm, instead, he parried the blow from the man coming from above as he blindly kicked backwards, the heel of his foot catching the other knight in the face, sending him tumbling down to his death. The last remaining knight pulled his blade down for another attack, but Carver ducked low and pressed closer, hooking the cross-guard under the knee of his foe as he pulled, pulling the knight onto his back. A moment later, Carver was atop the man, a knee pressing down his foe's sword-arm while he with both hands drove his blade in under the knight's gorget and into the man's throat.

Rising, Carver met Garrett's wide-eyed stare, and narrowed his eyes as he silently waved his detachment of sword-armed Templars to follow up the hill.

"Reinhart! Reserves! With me!" Garrett could barely believe the words were coming out of his mouth, nor what he was doing as he rushed for the now undefended hill. _I don't want this_! _Please don't make this happen_! "Missiles, concentrate shots!"

He reached the top of the hill just in time to see Carver reach it as well, the two men staring at one another in shock.

Then one of the templar's following Carver fell, an arrow lodged in his armpit. A cry of rage, and Carver rushed straight at him...

Garrett, mouth dry, could only stare, his arms suddenly numb, unwilling to raise his blade or shield.

With a roar, a blur of chain mail rushed past, a small man, a soldier, coming at Carver with his sword swinging in a wide arch. _Pip_?

Garrett's officer missed by a mile. Carver moved with the ease of a dancer in his plate armour as he stepped just outside the reach of Pip's swing before stepping forth once more, a long lunge that saw his blade slide into Pip's side and then out the back in an explosion of gore and broken pieces of mail.

The young man stared back at Garrett, then fell, kicked into the dirt by Carver as the Templar freed his blade.

Snorting at Garrett's stare, Carver waved his detachment forward...only to growl in frustration as Reinhart, surprisingly leading from the front, sent his men surging forth.

With a crash of plate upon plate armoured giants crashed into one another, the shock of impact from Reinhart's charge leading to three Templars dying before they could even strike at their foes while a single one of Reinhart's men fell, clutching a shattered knee.

With a roar, Carver stood at the centre of the melee, great sword swinging wide, driving his foes back...and then his Templars followed, eagerly hacking blades driving Reinhart's men back inch by bloody inch.

"Damn it!" Shaking himself into action, Garrett ran forward, barely aware that Isabela and Maric, both having stayed his silent shadows, charged with him. "Drive them back!"

Pressing through the buckling line of soldiers, Garrett's blade skimmed off a Templar's helmet, the riposte of the enemy nearly catching him in the neck. Gasping, Garrett beat his foe's blade aside with his own and smashed his shield into the visor of his foe. The man staggered...and then fell as Maric bit into his ankle and pulled his foot from under him. Thrusting his blade into a gap in the Templar's armour, Garrett looked up in time to see Isabela break a Templar's knee with a well-placed kick while the rest of her bent over backwards, just under another's swinging blade. A second later, her own struck the Templar's neck, sending him to meet the Maker.

The momentum shifting, the knights pressed their way back up, another two Templars falling as they were caught trying to retreat.

Snarling an oath, Carver surged towards the centre, straight at Garrett...who once more felt paralysed with horror at what was about to happen...before Reinhart stepped forth, lunging with a blade far too heavy for the old man against the Captain of the Templars. Disdainfully, Carver sidestepped the thrust, his slashing blade severing the noble's hand by the wrist as if the plate armour wasn't even there. Gasping, Reinhart clutched the wound and fell to his knees...and then Carver's return-stroke caught him in the neck, sending his head tumbling down the hill as the rest of his body fell to the ground.

The counter-attack lost steam, the men hesitant at the death of the noble...but that meant that the Templars, now standing tall atop the hill, became perfect targets.

A hail of arrows and bolts felled three Templars before they were even aware of the danger, and when a lightning bolt, bearing the distinct mark of Merrill, exploded amidst them, a further four became living torches, screaming as their flesh boiled within their armour.

Carver, runed armour glowing bright as arcs of lightning played across it, kept his blade levelled at Garrett, a promise in his eyes...and then he began to back away and turned his head to shout. "Fall back! Retreat and regroup at the wall!" A final glare at Garrett, full of hatred, and the man turned and ran, though far more reluctantly than those who'd followed him.

At first, Garrett simply stared after him, his entire being suffused with dread of what might come...and then he looked to the carnage around him. Too many of his soldiers had died to Carver's blade, their defences nearly pierced by a rapidly more professional Templar army...and Garrett's dread multiplied.

_We need more than magic and blades if we're to endure_...

Tired, Garrett turned around, looking past a pale but hesitantly smiling Merrill...and to a mage standing behind her. The Tower's senior alchemist...

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Meredith's tent was open, allowing her a good view of both the City and the Tower ahead. Sitting in front of her desk, she felt her entire body coil, tense beyond words...it had been so ever since her retreat from the Circle Tower. She was tense, stressed, her entire body _screaming_ at her to rush at the Tower and retake control and deal with _all_ the mages and their thralls within.

Clutching her pen tightly, nearly snapping it, the fourth today, Meredith tried to focus on the reports before her.

Before her, behind a mound of the destroyed wall, Templars were swarming like ants around the catapults she'd set up. Bringing up fresh stones taken from the city, readying new shots, aiming, preparing weapons for yet another assault...they worked in shifts, maintaining the pressure on the Tower with all the might the order could manage.

_Yet it's not breaking_. The thought was a growl in her head.

To the right, the city loomed, dark smoke rising from various sites as the foolish citizens torched their own homes. Troops of Templars kept the gates sealed so no apostate could flee, and other detachments were scouring the city for provisions, a task made harder by the idiot citizens and their constant rioting, but so far, provisioning the Templars was not proving too difficult, even though searching individual homes was proving a chore.

To the left, there was another crack as a catapult's shot struck the Tower, yet despite that, it held. The structure, though slim and frail-looking, was proving surprisingly sturdy, the Tower had been built by the Tevinter Imperium, no doubt funding Dwarven masons...human efforts would wear it down like all else, but it would take time.

Time Meredith didn't feel she had.

_Any day now, any moment, there'll be a mass-sacrifice and they'll come at us with demons and blood-magic_! _We must hurry_! Finally, her pen snapped.

Grumbling in annoyance, Meredith lowered the pen and looked over at the city, ignoring the pillars of smoke rising from it in favour of something closer. _Carver and_...? Meredith rose, watching the two men approaching. "I know you..."

The elf, tall and lanky, covered in blue tattoos and wearing a snowy mop of white hair, inclined his head. "I'm honoured that you remember me."

Carver, coming closer, saluted. "Commander, this is Fenris, one of Garrett's old comrades, a _former_ comrade."

"I see." Meredith smiled at Carver, pleased with him. Looking back to Fenris. "Former, then? So why are you here?"

"He's gone too far, he's betrayed all ideals I have and has allied with all things I hate." Fenris growled back. His hands, once behind his back, pulled around, revealing a motley head that he dropped on the ground before him. "I cannot stand idly by while that happens. I once offered him my service as a way to pay a debt...I offer you mine for nothing but the chance to do what's right."

Meredith, curious, looked at the head. "Who is that?"

"Bastile, Garrett's great chevalier." Fenris smiled, though it was a cool smile, one far too pleased with his own deed.

_A beast, driven mad by his own rage and pain_. Meredith considered the elf. _Good, that may prove useful against our enemy_. "You want to stop Garrett then? Fight him? Maybe even kill him? He was your friend, was he not?"

"Friend?" Fenris shook his head. "No, I once respected him...but this...? No, I cannot be friend with one such as him. He must be stopped, his _mages_ must be stopped." The man nodded to himself. "We cannot allow a second Tevinter Imperium, this monstrous creation must be killed in its cradle."

Meredith, smiling, nodded at the elf and offered her hand. "You and I, Fenris, are of the same mind..."

Fenris, unhesitatingly, grabbed her hand.

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Outside, people were screaming, a window shattering.

Donnic, kneeling, felt his shoulders tremble. Grief, sadness, disappointment...it all felt too much as he opened the chest before him. It was empty, but not for long.

Reverently, Donnic put his folded tunic away, the worn orange covered in marks and stitches from repairs...it had served well, however. Next, the breastplate, the greaves, the pauldrons...piece after piece of his armour, the armour he'd worn for what felt like a lifetime, disappeared into the chest.

Last was his sword and shield. One worn at the grip and clearly with much use, yet sharp as a razor. The other dented and scrapped, yet still solid and strong.

All ended up in the chest.

A sigh, and Donnic, unable to look at it all, closed the lid._ So much for the guard_...

Outside, a child was screaming, screaming...and then going eerily quiet.

He'd tried to keep the guard together, Maker knew he had...but without pay, without food...and with every person with a grudge for Templars, State or Mages wanting to take it out on someone, _all_ had finally left the City Guard.

_I'm sorry, love_.

His stomach grumbling, he hadn't eaten in two days, Donnic raised the old painting of Aveline he owned. It was the only picture he had of her, the only thing she'd allowed him to commission, and only on their wedding day, after an _hour_ of cajoling... The thought made Donnic smile, making him kiss the sharp features of his wife. _Maybe it's best you died before all this_..._seeing all of this_..._it would hurt you more than the dagger that killed you_.

Of course, had she been around, maybe Aveline _could_ have kept the guard together, picked a side, done something..._helped_...but Donnic didn't want to dwell on that, his guilt and sadness was great enough without adding more to the burden.

_It should have been I who died_.

Another kiss on the portrait, and Donnic placed it atop the chest.

_Watch over this, will you, my love_?

Rising to his feet, his limbs aching, body tired, Donnic moved towards the door. _I'll try to find us some food_.

Outside, a hell of rioting and killing awaited him.

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson, for the Picasso_


	91. Chapter 91

"We're not making much progress with these assaults, Commander."

Meredith ignored Cullen's words, her hands behind her back as she overlooked the latest attempt of the templars to force their way into the Circle Tower from a hill. Impassive, she struggled not to give voice to the desperate thought. _No, but we __must__ try_. The need to hurry was growing.

"I _almost_ managed to breach their ranks, had we gotten a better foothold, it would have been all over." Carver growled, the man didn't take failures well, though his efforts had been impressive, according to the survivors of his assault. "We only need to manage it _once_."

_Yes, only once, yet we're not managing that, we're only getting casualties_..._casualties and no results_! Meredith gritted her teeth, if she could have sacrificed a hundred templars for a sure and immediate victory, she would have done so ages ago.

"Eventually, they will be worn down, it's simple mathematics. And yes, as you say, Carver, only one success is needed, they can succeed time and time again and it'll make no difference." Fenris agreed, the lanky elf's sombre tone standing in stark contrast to the more tense humans around him.

_Yes, __eventually__, but how long will it take_? _We __must__ have the mages under our charge again, we must_..._we must execute every single one, they've been exposed to the fade without templar protection for too long, the Circle must be annulled. _The thought was disgusting, the idea of executing all the Circle mages making her queasy. But Meredith knew there was no option, and no room for doubt. _I'll do it myself, execute each and every single one myself_..._it's the least I can do_.

First, however, they needed to _capture_ the Tower.

Ahead, the latest assault was proceeding as planned. The catapults had, on Cullen's advice, been loaded with sacks of smaller rocks and burning sacks of pitch-soaked straw. The missiles did no real damage to the building, but covered it in a haze of grey dust and black smoke, making it difficult to draw a bead on the approaching templar force to those within the Tower. The templars were not taking chances, their shields forming a roof and wall ahead of them as they shuffled forward.

There was a curious lack of missiles coming from the Tower though, and Meredith found her eyes narrowing at the sight. _What are you up to, Garrett_? _The cover isn't __that__ good_.

Cullen sighed. "Yes, I suppose, but I'd rather _not_ lose _hundreds_ more templars to wear the defenders down. We could just keep bombarding, maybe dig tunnels...if we get enough breaches, they can't stop us."

_There's not enough time for that, Cullen_. Meredith bit her lower lip, her body taut as a bowstring, the urge to run down and lead the charge almost overwhelming._ We __must__ get in, __now_!

Ahead, something glittered as it left the Tower.

_Huh_?

Behind, Fenris noticed it too. "What is that?"

More things, glittering in the air, left the Tower, falling down like snowflakes.

With a boom of blue fire, the ground to the left of the templar force heaved, making the whole troop stagger to the right, one templar screaming, clutched a leg that had clearly been broken by a stone fragment.

_Is that_... Another explosion, this time in front of the turtle of shields, blossomed in blue fire, stopping the force in its tracks. ..._lyrium_ _bombs_!?

Two more bombs landed, this time right on top of the templars. The explosions flattened those struck, shields were sent soaring, _limbs_ were sent flying...and the whole formation broke, templars staggering, wounded and unwounded, all covered in blood and gore.

Behind Meredith, Cullen gasped and Carver growled in rage.

Then arrows started to rain from the Tower, blindly loosed through smoke and dust they began to clatter against the ground, but some also struck the now unshielded templars, the missiles sliding off plate armour or punching through the gaps at random. A moment later, fireballs followed, orbs of yellow fire hurtling into the ground before expanding in clouds of fire. The templars, dazed and terrified, were no longer prepared to nullify the magic.

Meredith tasted blood as she bit her lower lip, eyes blazing with rage.

Screaming, crying, templars ran and staggered back. Far too many remained though, blown to bits, felled by arrows or turned to charred pieces of armour and bones.

"Maker, so many losses..." Cullen whispered, horrified.

Fenris grunted in reply. "Such devices are very fragile, it's a sign of desperation to use them. Next time, you might try heavier shots for your catapults against the Tower, a single accident within and they will destroy themselves with such weapons."

"_Next_ time? Are you _mad_!?" Cullen snarled. "No, Commander, we _can't_ send troops down there again without a more effective way to nullify those weapons, they'll refuse. Perhaps a gallery with a high-sloping roof to deflect those jars or whatever they use to the sides?"

Meredith, jaw clenched tight, didn't answer.

_Damn you, Hawke_...

When she finally did speak, it was in a low growl."I want more ammunition gathered for the catapults, take apart the whole city if you have to. Also, requisition more food, scour the city."

Behind her, Cullen seemed about to protest, but a tensing of her shoulders silenced him.

"I'll make that Tower their tomb."

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Kirkwall was burning.

All around, people were screaming, clawing at their faces as coiling green lights appeared in the air around them, tentacles of the lights centred around black singularities hovering in the air. From within, leering demons of all types vomited forth, claws slaying left and right, ripping men and women apart, their grins wide as they bathed in blood and savagery.

_Horrible, isn't it_? _The Veil's so thin in Kirkwall, just another little push, and it'll break_...

The demons, some like mockeries of humans, other too inhumane to even describe, roared, surging towards the pristine Chantry in the distance, clambering all over it, ripping it apart.

_All you worked for, ruined, the disaster you were supposed to avert, reality_.

And at the centre of it all, a dark and brooding shape, the Circle Tower stood. The mages and soldiers within now stood outside of it, the mages all sporting impossibly wide smiles, their pale hands dripping with blood, the soldiers misshapen monsters, possessed beasts on leashes held by the mages. _All_ were grinning at her, taunting her, knowing she had lost.

_It'll happen, soon_...

At the forefront, Garrett stood, the man's face grim, his armour pristine as he glared at Meredith. She took a step back...and the man's eyes flashed purple, cruel magic within, taunting her from behind a veneer of humanity.

_He's the centre of it, holding it all up_..._his words are lies, his actions falsehood_.

Meredith shrunk before his gaze, terrified as the city around her burnt, the stones covered in the blood of the innocent.

_He'll plunge the world into darkness, he and his mages, he and his nobles_..._Kirkwall will become a haven for demons and blood mages_...

No, no...Meredith shook her head.

_Yes, yes he will_.

Before her, Garrett's grim facade broke, a grin splitting his face, sharp fangs dripping with venom as he regarded her with hunger.

_Kill him, kill him and the others will crumple_.

Meredith, glaring back, found the man take a step back. Yes...

_Then kill the rest of them_.

Around her, the dead men and women were warping into demons themselves, grinning at Meredith...and then hesitating as she rose tall, glaring back.

The voice, so soft, so gentle, yet so demanding, echoed in her mind._ Kill all of them_! 

Meredith woke with a gasp, her skin damp with sweat, her eyes wide. _Yes_..._yes, kill all of them, only way to be sure_... She shivered, the thought was horrifying, but it was, in the end, the only way to ensure the veil remained intact, that none of the wide-spread corruption by the blood-mages could escape Kirkwall.

_I'll kill them all, end their suffering_..._but_ _first_..._yes_, _first_ _Garrett_.

In the back of her head, a small voice chuckled, but Meredith pushed it aside, the woman already on her feet as she shouted to have her council summoned.

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_We can do this_...

Meredith, standing tall in full armour, felt her confidence grow, her eagerness to put her plan into motion rising with each heartbeat. Her nightmare had been a real eye-opener, her subconscious telling her what she'd known all along...that Garrett was the key to defeating the mages, of destroying them. And once they were dealt with...well...there were a lot of sympathisers, and therefore possible cooperators, to deal with.

Ahead, the Tower still stood, defiant against all the Templars could throw at them...but not for long.

Behind her, there was a polite cough as Carver and Fenris appeared. Even with her back towards them, she could feel Carver standing straight, ready to obey, while Fenris remained more laid back, curious but not otherwise uncommitted. _As long as he fights when required_. "Commander? You sent for us?"

"Yes..." Meredith answered, hesitating. _All I know of him tells me Carver will do what I ask, but if I'm wrong_..._well, it's time his faith is put to the test_. "Do you know what keeps the enemy together? What is keeping them fighting and defiant?"

A silence followed, then Fenris answered. "Hawke."

"Indeed." Meredith pulled free her spyglass. Bought by a dwarven merchant that had been caught trying to escape the city, the man had been nothing but cooperative once he realised he wasn't about to be hurt._ For now, I've heard it mentioned he might have had dealings with Garrett_..._nothing a little questioning won't drag out of him_. Meredith grit her teeth, it was horrible thinking such thoughts, but she had no choice now, she would have to be hard, _ruthless_, if she was to win. "He's the key to it all, once he falls, _all_ will fall." She brought the spyglass to her eye, gazing over the Tower with narrowed eyes. She couldn't tell much from the view, but her dwarven 'friend' with his stone-sense had assured her a part of the outer wall was about to crumple. "So we exploit his weakness."

"Which is?" Carver sounded a little pensive, but not hostile, a hint of curiosity in his voice. _Good_...

"He's a creature of habit, your blood-brother." Meredith smiled, finally, she was going to make a true impact on the enemy. "He always walks along the defences, every day, checking on everything, talking with the others, that sort of thing...every day, the same route."

"Don't call him my brother, please." Carver grunted, shifting where he stood. "You are my sister, the others here my brothers and sisters...him? He's nothing to me, an enemy."

"Surely an enemy _is_ something?" Fenris pondered, then chuckled. "Sorry, that was...unnecessary of me."

Still not turning to face the two men, Meredith continued. "Part of the outer wall, a section of parapet, has finally weakened under our bombardment. Not enough for us to make a great breach, surely, but enough to destroy the wall and parapet itself...all that's required is another bombardment of that section..."

"Well, that'll reduce the amount of enemy missiles, surely, but I don't see how that's related to Garrett." Carver grunted.

"Depends on _when_ you shoot, surely." Fenris retorted, the elf having sussed out Meredith's plan.

"_Exactly_." Meredith smiled and turned. Before her, Carver was giving Fenris a frosty look, though the elf ignored him, gaze focused on Meredith, the man now standing more straight, _definitely_ interested. "The catapults will hit just as the man walks there...and they'll bring him down."

Carver shifted where he stood, a hint of uncertainty in his face...but then he straightened, raising his chin as he spoke. "Good, that'll be the end of it, and him, then."

"Hopefully, yes." Meredith, pleased to see her captain knowing where his loyalties lay, smiled at him. "But _he_ is heavily armoured...and if he survives, he'll simply go back into the Tower, or be rescued by the defenders once they can spot him and are sure we're not attacking."

"You want to be sure." Fenris summarised, nodding to himself. "And you have a plan."

"I do." Meredith nodded. "If they think we're charging in when the wall is brought down, they'll lay down all their might to stop us and to rescue their 'Viscount', whether alive or dead. If, however, they see him brought down without us rushing in, with more shots coming their way, they might wait for the dust to clear to mount a rescue, keeping their heads down." She nodded to herself, confident in her plan. "We'll bring him down from his walls, then we'll pour more shots at the enemy, regular stones and burning ones to cause a smoke-screen...we'll make them uncertain of what to do."

"And then make sure he's dead?" Carver grunted, an intense look in his face, eyes blazing with...Meredith wasn't sure what. Hunger? Want? Desire? Worry?

"Yes...with one, or rather two, men going in. That way it'll be less of a chance of the enemy spotting them and react, than if I send an entire detachment." Meredith watched the light grow in Carver's eyes with interest. "They'll finish him off if need be, or they'll simply bring me his head...with his death, with his head paraded before the defenders...we'll finally break their will." _We __must__, it __has__ to work_.

"And we are the ones you intend to send." Fenris concluded, arms crossed over his chest.

"Do you...object? I thought you willing to fight him...now is your time to prove it." Meredith queried, unsure about the elf. _Mercenary and beast_..._both are hard to read, and this man is both_. "Carver says you're skilled enough...but do you have the _will_?"

"Oh yes, I do, I have old grudges to settle with him." Fenris replied, arms dropping to his sides as he nodded. "As long as, once he's dealt with, I'm allowed to aid in the slaying of the mages." A growl, the elf baring his teeth like a blood-mad wolf. "There's clearly a sickness in them all, they need to be put down."

Meredith nodded, happy to get that issue over and done with. More hesitant, she turned to Carver, keeping her tone cold. "And you, Hawke? Are you willing to do this? To possibly kill Garrett, your brother in blood? The man who raised you? The last member of your family?"

Meredith had expected a pause, silence, a thought...

Instead, she watched Carver lower his head for but a moment, then raise it, eyes hard. "Yes I am, Commander, yes I am..."

_Excellent_.

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson, for the shoulder._


	92. Chapter 92

"This is nice." 

Garrett blinked, his mind too focused on the tired-looking troops in the hall to register the strange words. Turning his head, he looked down at Merrill, watching her offer a pale smile. She had been getting bouts of morning sickness the last few weeks, and as such, this morning's walk was a rare thing. Garrett had been surprised when Merrill had come up to him, offering to walk with him, she hadn't done so before...then again, he had been so busy...

With an attempt at a smile, a jab of guilt in his heart, Garrett managed a reply. "What do you mean, my little elf?"

Merrill pressed closer, between Garrett's dragon bone plate and her silverite chainmail there was no warmth...yet the gesture itself still warmed him, if only for a moment. "This, a walk, just the two of us...been a while since we saw each other." Her smile turned hesitant, asking. "I've missed it..."

Garrett, wincing with guilt, forced a smile. "I know, it's been a...busy time, I guess." He sighed, head moving to trace his gaze across the hall they were walking down. "And it's my fault, I know...it all went...it wasn't supposed to be like this. By now we should have been at home, not...you know."

They were a third of the way up the tower's height, far up enough to have a good view, near the ground enough to shoot foes approaching, the wide hall they walked through lit up by sunlight streaming through the gaping holes where coloured windows had once been. The windows, shattered since long ago by the templar bombardment, were nowhere to be seen, the walls around the large gaps cracked and chipped, but standing tall. _Dwarven made, the Tevinters sure knew how to spend their money_. Garrett was glad for it, the Tower looked fragile from the outside, but it was anything but, it was _unbreakable_. _Just a bit longer, a bit longer and the Divine will act, she __must__ act_...

On the other side of the hall, lining the inner side, tables and chairs had been put up. Men and women, mostly the fallen Reinhart's troops, sat and drank and ate, welcoming the relief the end of the bombardment had brought. The Templars, worn down from the many assaults, needed their rest too, and the besieged were enjoying what little time was granted as much as they could. _At least they're not fighting each other, or arguing_..._guess they're too tired to_. The thought at least brought some relief.

"You can't blame it all on yourself." Merrill pointed out, shaking her head as she turned away, a pensive look on her face. Her tone, soft, held a wistful note to it. "Anders planned this all, if he hadn't done what he did...we wouldn't be here. If Meredith hadn't driven the city to near ruin, we wouldn't be here. If there had been no Circle here, we wouldn't be here." A sigh, and the elf looked back up at him, shaking her head. "Putting all the blame on yourself is _easy_, love. It makes everything so simple, horrible, but simple...but it's not right, and doing it does...bad things to you."

Garrett paused mid step, then pulled Merrill closer, smiling at her. _You're wiser than anyone but me knows_. "I...of course, thank you, love. What would I do without you?"

"Probably the same thing you're doing now?" Merrill asked, a hint of teasing in her tone, though also of disapproval. Smiling, she looked away. "I know you didn't exactly do all of this for me...I didn't like it from the start, after all." Garrett grimaced. "But I understand, it's for the good of the cla...I mean city." A shrug. "If only Anders hadn't done what he did..."

Garrett, bereft of an answer, started walking again, holding the woman close as he grimaced. _Damn it, she's bloody right, she never wanted all this, yet I dragged her into it anyway because of my ambition_._ And now this moment is ruined too_..._where's Maric when you bloody need him? Why did I tell him to keep the mage-children company_? _They were doing fine_..._shouldn't have let them see the dog and fall in love with him_. "Listen, Merrill, I have responsibilities here, to all who's here and the city, but you...Maker, I _wish_ I could get you out safely, that you could be safe somewhere while I-"

A finger silenced him.

Blinking, Garrett looked down, finding Merrill smiling up at him, her thin digit keeping his lips sealed. "Don't be stupid, husband." She grinned at his arched eyebrows. "Your fight is my fight, and there's no way I'm leaving your side ever again. Besides, what kind of Dalish would I be if I abandoned my people in their time of need?" Slowly, she let her finger slip from his lips, the hand coming to rest on the back of his neck instead.

Garrett couldn't help but grin back. "_Your_ people?"

"Well...they're not Dalish..." Merrill cocked her head to the side, smirking. "...but no one's perfect."

Garrett couldn't help it, he laughed, then leant down, kissing Merrill as his hands wrapped around her waist, lifting her off the ground.

At the back, a soldier whooped as another whistled a cat-call, making the man and woman grin against each others' lips.

For a moment, it was perfect.

Then the ground shook.

Blinking, Garrett looked up with a sigh, the tremor under his feet all too familiar.

"Artillery!" _Well yes, isn't that warning bloody pointless by now_? _Ah well, figures that Meredith wouldn't give us the entire day_... Looking up, Garrett found a man running away from his perch on a window though, face ashen. "Back! Back! Back!"

Garrett, glaring at the man even as he held on to a sighing Merrill, shook his head. "Calm down, don't be so-"

The ground shook, then _heaved_, making the rest of Garrett's words die in his throat as he was thrown to the floor in a cloud of dust, pebbles raining over him. Blinking against the stinging cloud of dust around him, Garrett saw part of the wall had been smashed open, a rock the size of a man still rolling across the floor as the remains of the wall lay smashed around it.

Again, the ground heaved, and Garrett was momentarily thrown into the air before heavily landing on the floor, floor now splitting and cracking before his eyes. Shaking his ringing head, he looked back up, seeing Merrill struggling to her feet. Her eyes, already large, were impossibly wide as she fixed a wide stare at him. "Garrett!" With a glance down, Garrett realised the reason for her horror. The stone below him was coming apart, the impacts enough to have turned it to gravel, making everything lean to the left...and a glance there revealed open air...and a long drop. "Take my hand!"

Pushing himself to all fours, the floor beneath him giving way like quicksand, Garrett raised a hand towards her. Merrill took a step forward, reaching out-

Again, the ground heaved, and Merrill shrieked, the floor she stood upon coming free from the rest of the hall, throwing her onto her side as it sloped, then fell...right out into the air.

"_Merrill_!" Garrett shot to his feet, vainly reaching out into open air...and then the ground gave way under his feet, sending him onto his back and dragging him with it in an avalanche of pebbles and rocks into the air where a wall had once been.

Below, the Tower's exterior, smashed and broken from the bombardment, had formed a steep slope, a cliff of rocks and dust, nearly, but not quite, a sheer drop.

Garrett screamed, flailing, _falling_.

_Pain_!

White lights flashed before his vision, head suddenly on fire.

Then darkness took him.

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_Maker_...

Spitting bloody phlegm, Garrett rolled onto his stomach, his head swimming, his ears ringing. Looking up, he found himself surrounded by a cloud of grey dust, black plumes rising above him, making the light of the sun only appear in fleeting glances.

_Where am I_?

On his right, he could vaguely see the Circle Tower rise up, the building seemingly impossibly tall when one was so close to it. It looked odd though, one side, from halfway up, wasn't the finely sculpted front of the Tower, but a cliff of rocks and pebbles. In many spots, one could see right into the Tower, the supporting pillars still holding the wounded Tower up, even some parts of the walls still remained...but largely, it was a massive wound in the side of the building reaching from mid-height down to a few dozen feet from the ground.

_Wait, I'm __outside__ the Tower_?

Even as Garrett watched, more catapult-shots were impacting with the Tower. Some were massive rocks, largely shattering against the wall or bouncing off it, but others were barrels of burning pitch or sacks full of rocks, making more and more dust and smoke rain down on Garrett, making him blink and struggle to orient himself.

_What's going on_? _Why_ _are_..._Merrill_!

"Me-" Garrett coughed, his lungs on fire from dragging a fistful of dust into them. "Me-" Another cough, more painful, and Garrett drew his sword, pressing the tip against the ground as he struggled onto his knees. "_Merrill_..."

A cough, another spit of blood, this time black with dust, and Garrett managed to draw a proper breath. "Merrill!" He raised a leg, foot coming onto the ground, his body aching. _She wore chainmail, it was a long drop, she could be_... "_Merrill_!" Next to him, a fist-sized rock smashed into the ground. _Another could have_... Ripping his helmet stuck to his left hip free, Garrett pressed it onto his aching skull with a grimace even as he managed to draw more air into his lungs. "Merrill!"

He rose to his feet, swaying, but getting steadier by the moment. His heart was racing though, his eyes wide as he raised his visor. "Merrill! Answer me! Where are you!?"

Around him, there was only a fog of dust and smoke.

And a shape.

Garrett's heart leapt, the shape was humanoid, a weapon sticking up the back. "Merrill...?!" Garrett took a step forward. The shape grew more solid, larger, _broader_, the hint of a spear turning into a sword on a man's back as Garrett's hope faded...and was replaced by dread. "C-Carver...?"

"What, not happy to see me?" Carver, advancing straight ahead, put his helmet on with precise movements, then drew his sword, steps wide and unerringly going straight for Garrett.

Garrett licked his lips, shaking his head at the sight. "Brother, I know that we haven't-"

"Don't call me that!" Carver lunged.

Gasping, Garrett found his parry to be too slow, making the heavy greatsword carve a groove into his breastplate and send him stumbling aside. Struggling to a stop, Garrett stared at Carver in shock. The man, now still, glared back from the slits in his helmet, sword still poised after the blow that had sent Garrett stumbling. "No...no..." Garrett shook his head even as he reached back, freeing his shield. _Maker, I can't_..._no, I can't_. "...Carver, don't _do_ this."

"Or _what_?" Carver snarled, sword suddenly held high as he once more advanced, giving Garrett but a moment to lower the visor to his helmet. "You'll send me to my room without supper?!" The greatsword descended, striking Garrett with tremendous force._ Maker, he can't be as strong as the Arishok, it's impossible_! Garrett, even if he'd wanted to, had no time to strike back with his sword as Carver stepped to the right and slashed again, the blade clashing against Garrett's shield with enough force to send Garrett stumbling sideways. "You'll make me chop wood for a few hours!?" A third strike, this time coming from low, and Garrett, already off balance, found his parrying shield pushed up into his visor with a ringing noise, making him blink and stagger backwards. "I'm not yours to bully around anymore!"

"Bully?!" Garrett, backing away from his madman of a brother, shook his head in confusion. "I have done nothing but tried to keep you safe and helped you as best I can. Perhaps I wasn't always the most warm person, I often forgot about all but the practical bits, but I _never_ bullied you." He stared at the man before him, terrified with how much of a stranger he was. "I _loved_ you!"

"_Loved_!?" Carver growled, sword leading him forward. "Do you forbid someone to see a woman and then steal her away yourself when you 'love' them!?"

"That's different!" Garrett caught Carver's blade with his shield, raising his own to beat the man back...and then found the pommel of Carver's greatsword swing around, smashing into Garrett's helmet and staggering him backwards. "I didn't _plan_ to fall in love with her! And you...you don't love her, brother, this is not worth fighting about!" Adopting a low crouch, shield and sword ready to block, Garrett started inching to his right, watching Carver mimic him. "And if you truly do, you would help me find her, she's here, somewhere, maybe hurt..."

"Help you so you can go fuck her some more?" Carver snarled, shaking his head. "Oh no, I'm through helping you so you can get all the benefits." He lowered his blade, taking a bold step forward. "You've doomed her, you know, she'll die because of _you_."

Garrett grit his teeth. "She _won't_, I won't let that happen."

"Funny." Carver advanced again, sword suddenly swinging up for a strike at Garrett's head...only for him to hold the blow, his foot shooting out under Garrett's raised shield, smashing into his breastplate and sending him onto his back. "Like you could protect _anyone_!" Gasping, Garrett watched the man's blade descend.

He rolled away from the blow.

"You got Gamlen killed!"

Another swing, and Garrett rolled aside again.

"Bethany!"

A thrust, and Garrett parried it aside.

"Mother!"

Garrett spotted the feint a moment too late, the blow was replaced by a foot pushing into his chest, holding him still before the greatsword swung from an unexpected direction, cleaving into the inside of Garrett's shield and sending it spinning out of his hand.

Above, Carver loomed, a giant raising his blade with both hands, the tip aimed at Garrett's throat. "You've gotten _everyone_ you've ever loved killed! Why would _she_ be any different?"

Garrett had no answer to that, no tactic, no words, he just lay there.

_Maybe this is for the best_..._maybe he's right_...?

A growl echoed in the dust, and then Carver suddenly jumped off Garrett and spun around, blade a whirl.

The growl turned into a crunch...and a mass of fur and blood rolled past Carver, coming to a stop just in front of Garrett's feet.

Sitting up, he stared at the impressive body before him now lying limp, at the neck of the great beast, still pumping blood. At the head, lying next to his left hand, wide eyes staring at him. What...? _Y-you shouldn't be here_... Reaching out, body numb, Garrett scratched the hound behind the ear.

Carver's voice, dark and foreboding, was a growl. "And now you've gotten Maric killed too..."

Garrett looked up, meeting Carver's gaze with his own, eyes narrowing. "You always did have a knack for blaming me for everything." He rose to his feet, his voice cold, his blood boiling. "And for doing _very_ stupid things..."

Carver snorted. "Tell that to Bethan-"

With a roar, Garrett launched himself forward, sword held with both hands as he hacked it straight down at Carver's head.

With a screech, blade met blade as the Templar parried with both hands raised, his elbow shooting out to push Garrett off balance, his riposte coming an instant later, aimed at Garrett's face.

Simply turning his head, Garrett let the thrust slide off his helmet as he charged right into his foe, swinging his blade like a club, a great horizontal swipe at Carver's stomach.

The Templar jumped forward and over the blade, rolled onto his feet and thrust, his blade skimming off Garrett's raised gauntlet as the man thrust back, only to find his blade missing Carver's head only to poke a hole into the air next to it.

Carver's left hand shot up, between Garrett's arms, grabbing his left and wrenching it down, making him stagger as his whole body twisted sideways to maintain the grip on his blade...and Carver swiped his feet from under him with his leg.

Garrett landed on his back, but rolled onto his feet even as pain laced its way up his side as Carver's blade finally found a chink in the dragonbone.

Staggering back, breathing heavily, Garrett watched Carver calmly regarding him, the man shaking his head in disdain. "This is the great Champion of Kirkwall? Killer of the Arishok? If this is how great you are, _I_ would have killed the Qunari with ease, _I_ would have killed the High Dragon, _I_ would have been the one to become a noble, had you not stolen my chance..._I_ should have been the great Champion of Kirkwall, not _you_!"

Panting, Garrett shook his head. "You don't have the slightest clue of what being a noble means, or what greatness is."

Snarling, Carver attacked again.

And again.

And again.

A low cut turning into a high thrust.

A high cut turning into a low.

A slash turning into a strike with the pommel.

A high cut turning into a thrust only to be turned into a lower cut.

A low blow turning into a kick, followed by a slash, followed by a thrust, followed by a twisting of the blade and a gush of blood.

Garrett, armour dented and cut, fell onto his knees, the white dragonbone plate awash with blood pouring from his left armpit, his collar and his right thigh, from his cleaved helmet...

Garrett watched his sword fall, numb hands unable to hold onto it.

Looking up, he found Carver staring at him as he stepped back and pulled his helmet off. For a moment, a look of shock fell on the man's face, but it was swiftly replaced by a glare of hatred, of _spite_. Stepping closer, the man raised his sword once more, snarling. "What, then, makes _you_ greater than I? Answer me that."

Garrett, not mortally wounded, but in too much pain to even move from where he knelt, just stared back.

"_Exactly_." With a growl, Carver slashed down.

And missed, the blade slamming into the ground to Garrett's left.

Surprised, Garrett watched the templar fall onto one knee, clutching at a bolt embedded into his side. "What makes him greater than you..." A familiar voice, though distant, snarled. "...is too long a list to count." Another bolt whizzed out, striking Carver in the shoulder and making him fall onto his back. "Mostly though, he's not a prick like you." Stepping out of the dust, Varric held Bianca ready as he marched past Garrett and placed a boot on Carver's chest, holding the feebly struggling Templar fast. Turning his head, Varric stared at Maric's remains with a sigh. "Told him to wait for me to catch up..." Another sigh, and then man turned his gaze to Garrett, holding the man's gaze, waiting.

Below, Carver rocked back and forth, words laboured as blood poured from his wounds, his voice a low whisper. "Wait...wait...please...wait..."

_There's nothing to say, not anymore_.

Garrett nodded.

Nodding back, Varric turned his gaze back to Carver, aimed, and fired.

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Merrill was hurt, hurt and confused.

Shaking her head, she stared around, desperate to orient herself. All around there was nothing but dust and smoke though. There was no wall, no city, not even the _Tower_...only a mist of dust and smoke. _Am I dead_? The thought was terrifying, but didn't strike her as likely...she doubted death would let you feel a sprained ankle.

Twisting her head, spear held in front of her, Merrill blinked, trying to make sense of where she was. _Did Garrett fall with me or did he manage to stay up_? _Ancestors, I can't recall_..._I have to find him, I have to find him and_...

The sound of running feet made her turn, hopeful, smiling. _Thank you, Mythal, I_-

The feet were running faster, and it wasn't the armoured boots of Garrett, but something lighter, _faster_. Ahead, a shape appeared, fast like a blur, _glowing_. "Oh, hello Fenris." Merrill blinked, confused. "I didn't know you were here, are you-ah!" She raised her spear, blocking the blade suddenly slashing at her in a horizontal swipe. "What are you doing!?"

"Silence, witch, die with some dignity." Fenris, still running, turned, blade held to his side as he with narrowed eyes zoned in on Merrill.

_By the gods_! Confused, Merrill summoned her magic, the Fade around her easy to grasp hold onto as the veil ran thin in the city. _Earth, remember growing, remember the seeds of old, remember when all was forest and green_..._grow_! With a crack, the ground in front of Merrill split, green vines from seeds long forgotten shooting up in front of her like a solid wall. "Can't we talk about this!?"

A moment later, Fenris stood atop the wall, apparently having managed to leap a good nine feet into the air. Looking down at the wide-eyed Merrill, he shook his head. "Nothing to talk about, apostate. You and your lover have gone too far, this is a mercy, not just for you, but for the rest of Thedas."

"B-but we're _friends_!" Merrill leapt back as Fenris jumped to the ground. "You don't want to do this!" _Grow, grow fast and cling to the trunks, cling and wring and hold_. The energies of the Fade easily found more husks from old seeds...and vines rose once more, few, but _quick_, curling around Fenris' ankles.

A blaze of blue light from the elf's tattoos, and the vines crumpled, black and dead, the Fade itself pulling back, as if burnt.

The elf was anathema to magic in a way no templar could achieve.

"Garrett!?" Leaping back yet again, Merrill held her spear level with Fenris. _Earth, you moved once, ground shook and thunder rose, do it again, fly_! _Fly like you once did_! The Fade's energies tore at the ground, and the ground responded, chunks of stone and mud shooting into the air, hurtling for Fenris.

The elf ducked and leapt to his left, moving like water around the missile as he lunged for Merrill. Jumping back, she thrust her spear back at the man's hands, only to find him twisting his blade, parrying the spear and binding it to his cross-guard as he ran up the length. "He's not coming, blood-mage!" Merrill screamed in terror, the sound amplified as she in a panic let the Fade's energies coil around the vibrations in her throat.

With a groan, Fenris staggered back several steps, his eyes closed shut. _I_..._I shouldn't_..._I_..._there must be a better way_. Merrill did it anyway, her body lunging, her spear thrusting out. "Leave me alone!"

Fenris weaved out of the way, body twisting like a dancer's as he advanced, making Merrill leap back. "No." He moved closer, the Fade itself trying to clutch at him at Merrill's command, only for him to slip out of its grasp like nothing.

Merrill, in a panic, fell on her back even as she strained to call on the Fade. "We're your friends! We've done so much together! For you!" _Earth, move, so many dead, so many buried, bury again, bury and move_!

Above, Fenris appeared, blade raised. His face, eerily calm until then, suddenly turned into a snarl. "Done for me!?"

The world swallowed Merrill, earth and stone and mud sealing around her like a tomb, a tomb shaking as the other elf's sword struck the ground above her.

_Move, move the flesh, remember worms, move for them, move for a larger worm, move before the flesh, move __with__ the flesh_. Energies coursed around her, the energies pulling at each grain, at each rock...making them move aside before her, move in after her, move _her_.

There was no air though.

Merrill, guiding the energies, gasped for oxygen as the ground spat her out like a discarded bone. Rolling onto her feet, Merrill watched Fenris spin, momentarily confused, his teeth bared in a snarl. "You gave me coin I could get from anywhere else! You let rogue mages run wild! You let Danarius escape!" He turned his head, eyes narrowing as he caught sight of her. "You let him _escape_!"

Merrill, shaking her head, knew not what to say.

A roar, and Fenris ran at her, blade raised.

_Heat, heed me, cold, heed me, stone, storm_! The Fade crackled, around her fingers and spear, weakening as Merrill's reserves ran low, but prodigious none the less.

The fireball exploded a few feet in front of Fenris, swallowing him whole...and he ran right through it, tattoo's blazing.

The torrent of ice, each a sharp razor of cold, rushed at him, and the elf leapt and spun, sword sending two shards flying wide as the rest dashed past his head.

A rock hurled at him, only for the pommel of his sword to beat it aside even as a second, a thin sliver, sliced a thin cut along her arm.

A trio of lightning-bolts hurtled forth, one blasting the elf square in the chest, only to crackle across his chest, seemingly harmless.

_No_! Merrill watched Fenris rush forward, sword raised high...and raised her spear to parry.

With a loud crack, the spear near shattered in two against the impact, but it held.

Above her, Fenris glowered down on her, his breath brushing her face.

Then he pushed the spear up, spun, and kicked, the momentum of the spin sending the foot smashing into Merrill's stomach, hurling her back.

She coughed, flying back, crashing onto her back, her whole body suddenly suffused with agony shooting from her stomach down into every limb.

_No_...

Gasping, clutching her stomach, Merrill found her vision flickering, the pain in her body turning to another pain, a _worse_ one.

_No, nonononononono_...

Ahead, she could see Fenris' legs, see him move forward, slowly, casually. "Don't worry, I'll make it quick."

Her body, full of agony, twitched, a cold spreading through her limbs, her thoughts narrowing into a single thought.

_Nononononononononononono_!

Then, a second pair of legs appeared, bare, dark, familiar. "You don't _touch_ her."

A screech of metal against metal, dust stirring as legs moved left and right, seemingly dancing, intricate circles drawing around each other as blade met blade, again and again.

It didn't matter.

_Nononononononononononono_!

Dust, stones, curses, sweat...and then blood.

_Nononononononononononono_!

"Merrill?" Legs, again, moving closer. "Merrill!?" Rushing, running to her. "Merrill!?"

_Nononononononononononono_!

The legs kneeling, hands soft, brushing across her, frantic, in a panic. "Merrill!? Maker, no, you're...Andraste's tits, _Merrill_!?" Holding her face, trying to lift her up. "Merrill, talk to me!"

_Nononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononono_...

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson, for the little tin men_...


	93. Chapter 93

Weak and tired from his long fall, the fighting, his wounds and the healing of a dozen mages - none which could match Anders in skill – Garrett stumbled and ran forward.

The halls looked the same, the stairs looked the same, everything was the same.

Yet Garrett kept running, rushing forward in a pace that made his head swim.

Everywhere, stairs, halls, stairs, halls, stairs, halls.

Over and over.

Faces, men, women, strangers.

Staring, always staring.

Then, another hall, long, built of yellow stone.

And midway through it, a closed door on the right side, Isabela and Varric on the left.

Garrett came to a halt, blankly staring.

Varric, for once, didn't look confident, didn't look helpful or even sympathetic. He looked _broken_, lost in misery. He didn't even seem to see Garrett.

Isabela jumped at the sight of him, a look of guilt on her tear-streaked face as she stared at him with wide eyes. She met his gaze, shook her head, and then looked away while rubbing her tears aside, mostly smearing them across even more of her face.

Garrett's numb gaze was drawn to the door to the right though, tired legs bringing him closer to a green door, its colour worn down around the edges. The handle, stained red with blood, sent a chill down Garrett's spine.

He moved closer, step after painful step, trudging for the door like he was walking through a mire.

Then his hand was closed around the handle, the blood soft against his palm, making the handle, creaking with age, initially resisting his twisting hand. Still, however much he hated to proceed, the handle could not resist for more than a moment, giving way with a crack, the handle twisted, opening the door.

Behind, silverite chainmail was pushed out of the way, by the door, the armour lying discarded like a worn rag. Garrett, gaze reluctantly turning, took in the room. A chamber for a senior enchanter, the spacious room was full of bookshelves and scrolls...and now a puddle of blood in the centre of the room.

Further to the right, a young woman, a pale human, hands shaking as she wiped her bloodied hands off on a tower, stopped dead in her tracks as with wide eyes she stared at him entering. Garrett stared at the blood on her hands with a strange feeling of detachment...and then swung his gaze further to the right, to the enchanter's bed.

The sheets of the bed were white, pristine...but there was no hiding the blood-soaked pile lying at tits foot, pulled off and replaced, a gruesome testament to the horror that had occurred in the room beforehand.

Tucked into the bed, almost as pale as the sheets themselves, Merrill lay, her mop of dark hair stood in stark contrast to it all. The woman was small in the bed, small and fragile like glass, big green eyes staring straight ahead, rimmed with redness from felled tears that still ran down her face.

Then, she looked up, at him.

Suddenly, she was shaking her head, a shudder running through her."G-Garrett, I...I'm s-so sorry, I...I'm sorry, so so-sorry..." Garrett strode for her, the rest of the world shirking away from them as he collapsed onto his knees next to the bed, reaching out to hold her even as the elf feebly tried to push his arms aside. "So-sorry, so-sorry...so sorry, sorry..." The woman's words gasped from a contracting throat, tore at his soul.

Then he was holding the sides of her face, pressing his forehead against hers as he squeezed his eyes shut, tears freely falling next to hers. "Hush, hush..." He swallowed, his attempts at comforting failing horribly as the world fell apart around him. _Dead_..._dead_...

"Sorry!" Merrill cried, louder, her hands rushing out, one wrapping over his neck, the other over his shoulders, clutching at him like a she was about to fall of a cliff. "I'm sorry! So sorry! I-I'm sorry!" The woman shook, violently, terrified. "I c-couldn't, I l-let...I'm sorry!"

Garrett, pressing his face into the crook of her neck, shook his head in denial, the woman's words cutting into him like razors. "No, no..." He was stroking her back with one hand, the other holding her tighter, trying to stop them both from shaking apart as all that remained of their world was each other. "Don't say that, n-no..._I'm_ so-sorry, I'm so sorry..."

Merrill's reply was a wordless wail.

She gripped him tighter, the two of them rocking back and forth in the darkness enveloping them, waves of pain and guilt and anguish washing over them until there was no room to speak, think or even _breathe_.

_My fault, my fault, my fault_...

Merrill gripping him tighter.

_Our fault, our fault, our fault_...

_No, no, no, no, no, no, no_...

The overwhelming pain slowly subsided, turning into an almost more painful ache, mixed with a growing despair as they, seemingly weightless, spiralled into a dark pit of horror.

Dimly, Garrett was aware of the two sinking back, of Merrill's grip loosening as she, too weak to hold on, slipped back into the bed. He, exhausted, found himself lying across her, head resting on her chest, hearing the weak flutter of her heart, her ragged breaths, each full of so much pain.

Pain echoing within him like a separate heartbeat as time dragged on.

_Not right_.

_Not fair_.

_I killed our child_.

The guilt bore into him, making him grip the sheets tighter even as he lay there, too tired to move.

_Fenris. Should have killed him, could have_...

_All my fault_.

Garrett recoiled from the thought, but there was nothing else to grip him, nothing else to tear at his broken heart, nothing else but despair.

_All my_-

No, there was something else, something _else_ to hold onto.

Desperate, in anguish, Garrett reached for it.

_All __her__ fault_...

Slowly, out of tears, he raised his head, empty gaze staring straight ahead.

Next to him, Merrill stirred, then whimpered. "G-Garrett...? No, no please don't. It...it's enough now...p-please don't..."

She was reaching for him, weak hands brushing his arm...but Garrett was already rising to his feet, all grief, pain and tiredness forgotten in that moment.

She was crying, he could hear it. "P-please...I n-need you with me, n-not...please don't go."

He knew he should look down at her, he also knew that if he did, he would crumple, his new resolve too fragile to endure her gaze.

So he didn't. He didn't so much as glance at her as he turned away, marching for the door.

Behind, her voice was but a whisper. "_Please_..."

Garrett left, closing the door behind him, hard eyes taking in the sight of Isabela and Varric standing with the woman that had been in Merrill's room. Noticing him, they looked at him in shock and sympathy...and then fright.

Varric was the first to react, the dwarf licking his lips before he tried to speak. "Hey, buddy, how-"

"Varric, Isabela, I need your help." Marching up to them, Garrett found them recoiling from his glower. "It's time to use the tunnel leading out into the city." Next to them, the female mage gasped in surprise. "You two will use it alone though, you will go out through it...and you'll go to every tavern, every market and every place where the people have gathered..." He spat the words. "You'll find them, and you'll find the guard...and you'll turn their fear into something more _useful_."

Isabela exchanged a look with Varric before speaking. "Err...I'm not sure I-"

"You _will_ do this." Garrett growled, not in the mood for debate. "Now go, get your things, I'll have more detailed instructions for you when you come back."

Varric and Isabela both looked ready to argue more, but Garrett's withering look made them recoil and then mutely turn, a frightened mutter escaping them as they walked for their rooms.

Garrett, glowering, made the human mage squeal as he turned his gaze to her, she froze mid-step in her attempt to sneak off. "_You_."

"Y-yes Se-Serah...?"

Garrett narrowed his eyes, the cogs in his mind moving, forming dark clouds into a more concrete plan.

"Get me the alchemists."

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For once, the flaps to Meredith's tent were closed, but Cullen, being well-known among the templars, found the guards pushing them aside to let him in as he approached.

Ducking his head, he entered the tent lit up by several oil-lamps, his tone wary as he took in the room. "You sent for me..." Meredith was sitting by a table on the far side, away from him, her elbows resting on the table, staring at what was before her. "...C-Commander?" Cullen's question turned into a horrified stutter.

Carver and Fenris' heads lay on the table, each placed on a plate, as if they were about to be served for dinner. Slack in their features, the elf and human heads were pale, their filmy eyes staring straight ahead.

Cullen, swallowing, took a hesitant step forward. "Wh...what in the name of the Maker _is_ this?"

Meredith, her tone cold, evenly replied without taking her eyes off the two heads. "Our friend Garrett sent them...seems the assassination attempt failed."

"Garrett?" Cullen dully repeated, disbelief gripping him. He hadn't known Fenris, nor cared overly much for Carver...but what he saw...no one deserved that. "_Garrett_ did this?" He couldn't make it fit. _They might not have gotten along, been enemies, but Garrett's not_..._Maker, what happened_!?

"Yes, it seems he did." Meredith growled. "Finally exposing his real colours...I should have known. He cavorts with blood-mages, of course he's a monster in disguise...I mean what else could he be, cutting their heads off and sending them here like a gift?"

Anger gripped Cullen, so swiftly and surely that it made him gasp in surprise even as he took a step forward. "Excuse me!? _Monster_!? May I remind you that _you_ intended to cut his head off and parade it on a _pike_!? Why is _he_ doing this a monstrous act when _your_ intent wasn't!?"

Face coloured by surprise, Meredith rose and turned, frowning at him in sudden suspicion. "Why are you _defending_ him...?"

"Defending him!?" Cullen shook his head, spreading his hands wide. "I'm defending _none_ of this! This _madness_! This whole war is _insanity_!"

"That is what magic does to men, yes." Meredith growled back, straightening. "You, if _anyone_, should know that...these circle mages have turned to blood-magic, to monsters, and they're _led_ by one."

"No!" Cullen took another step forward, emboldened by his anger. "You're right, I know _exactly_ what a corrupt circle looks like, what it can do...and this _wasn't one of them_!" He shook his head, baffled by the insanity surrounding him. "And Garrett was one of the few people willing to talk about things, willing to compromise...together we could have created _peace_! But now..." Shaking his head slower, Cullen stared at the two heads. "...now it's too late, he's been pushed over the edge."

"I can't believe what I'm hearing, I know you've been of a liberal...inclination...but Captain, this is borderline _treason_." Meredith took another step forward, the imposing woman towering over Cullen, her face dark with anger.

He only took another step forward though, snarling back. "Oh yes, of course, it's always that, no? Either I'm with or against you, either it's yes or no, either it's black or white...well guess what, that's _exactly_ what's brought us to this point." He shook his head. "You've pushed and pushed and _pushed_...and now we'll reap what you've sown." Finally, he took a step back, sighing. "I...should have done more, yes, to hold back you and made you see...but in the end..." He looked up, eyes flashing at the woman. "...this is on _your_ hands."

Meredith blinked, a look of uncertainty suddenly colouring her face. "Then...what would you advise me to do now..." She growled, narrowing her eyes. "...you who think you know so well what's best?"

Cullen shrugged though. "Do?" He chuckled. "It's too late now, there's no turning this, the lance has been lowered...now all there is to do is wait for the impact." He took another step back, shaking his head. "Those heads aren't a sign of blood-magic by the way...they're a warning, telling us _one_ thing..."

"And what's that?" Meredith snorted, though there was no hiding the look of uncertainty on her face.

"That he's about to bring the war to _us_." Cullen, shivering with dread, turned to leave and raised the tent's flap.

Behind though, Meredith spoke up to halt him. "And you? What do you intend to do? Flee? Abandon your duty?"

"Oh, I'll stay and do my duty." Cullen turned his head, shooting Meredith a glare. "After all, you're going to need every Templar you can _get_."

Outside, clouds were gathering...

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson, for the knights._


	94. Chapter 94

"My home was taken apart yesterday, said they 'needed more stones'."

"Shit, man, I'm sorry." All around, people muttered agreements.

"I pointed out that bloody empty warehouse across the market, that they could take _that_, but nope, got to take the one closest to their fucking siege lines, can't have templars sweat more than necessary, you see. Now my family is hiding in Darktown, like it wasn't packed enough there already."

Again, mutters in agreement, bitter, but too tired for anger.

Sitting in a corner of the Hanged Man, back to the wall, Donnic watched it all with weary eyes, he'd seen it all before, dayafter day, it was the same grumblings_. Suppose I should be happy the rioting and killing has stopped_.

The reason was simple, people were too tired to riot, too lost for hope. What food remained in the city was barely enough to keep the people fed, everyone was rationing to the point that their strength was waning...and so all that was left to do was to consume the one thing the templars hadn't taken...the beer.

So people sought the taverns and bars, they drank and listed grievances all day, for there was no running out of them. _By Andraste, this is depressing_.

Of course, this time it would be different, Donnic had known it the moment he'd seen the pair, the two appearing as if by magic when they should have been stuck in the Circle Tower. Now the short and stout fellow was sitting on a stack of barrels so he could look over the crowd of people, the mug of ale by his side surprisingly going untouched as he eyed the gathered throng with clever eyes. "Yeah, the templars sure have screwed us, huh?"

Donnic found his hackles rising at the words, he'd served long enough in the guard to recognise an instigator, and friend or no, Varric's words were just the kind to rekindle the fire into people's hearts and cause yet more unrest.

Varric didn't seem to notice the former guardsman's glare as he continued, looking over the crowd of curious people. "I must say, it's a very curious way to run a city, demolishing it bit by bit and letting the people starve..."

There were growls of agreement throughout the tavern.

But also dissent. "It's the bloody siege's fault."

"Nothing would have happened if Hawke hadn't started fucking with Meredith."

"Or fucking the blood-mage."

"Ha!"

"His pet mages blew up several city blocks, it's no joke, people."

Varric, unsurprisingly, wasn't phased with the any but whole-hearted agreement. "Last I checked, the mages responsible got burnt on the stake..."

"Good!"

"Bloody assholes, the lot of them."

"Finally Meredith did something _right_."

"...and one right doesn't make up for _hundreds_ of wrongs." Varric continued, theatrically shaking his head with a sigh. "Tell me, _why_ did Garrett take over the Circle Tower?"

All around, silence suddenly reigned, people exchanging puzzled gazes.

_Damn you, Varric_. Donnic began to rise, realising the dwarf was about to turn it around...only to sink back down when a voice softly spoke out to him. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Grunting in annoyance with his own compliance, Donnic turned to glare at the second of the pair as she sat down across the table. "He's trying to incite unrest, damn it, I have to stop him."

"Why?" Leaning back in her chair, Isabela arched an eyebrow. "You're not in the guard anymore, it seems."

Behind her, Varric had everyone's attention. "Because Meredith was destroying the whole city, not like now, I grant, but she was...you remember what it was like, right?"

Donnic, turning his glare back to Isabela, shook his head. "He might set fire to the whole city, speaking like that." 

"Sometimes, a little fire is necessary." Isabela replied with a surprising chill in her voice, eyes distant. When they came back to the present, they narrowed. "Meredith deserves what is coming to her."

"Perhaps, but these people _don't_ deserve to be pawns in some game of Garrett's to be sacrificed at his leisure." Donnic growled back. "They've suffered enough."

"And they'll suffer more if nothing is done." Isabela replied, something in the way she said it reminding Donnic of Garrett.

Damn it, friend of Aveline's or not. "I'm _going_ up there, Isabela, you can't stop me."

Isabela's eyes, surprisingly cold for such an emotional person, twinkled. "Yes, I can."

Donnic stared at her in shock.

Meanwhile, Varric was still speaking. "The curfews, the random searches, the harassment, the arrests, the destruction of the city's administration...you all remember that, right? And you remember how Garrett and the nobles tried to keep things going none the less?"

More muted, not sure where the dwarf was going with his words, the crowd uneasily nodded, listening intently.

In their own corner, Donnic was glaring at the calm Isabela, his body tensing as he, under the table, hesitantly reached for the dagger in his belt...

Isabela cocked her head to the side, a sudden smile crossing her features. "Oh please. You wouldn't manage even if you tried. Besides, I loved Aveline and would hate to beat up her husband." She _couldn't_ have known, yet somehow she did...and Donnic's hand dropped, clenching in helplessness.

"So that's it? You're just going to sit here and stop me from interfering while Varric creates a rebellion?" Donnic's face twisted into a grimace of disgust. "That's what Garrett _instructed_ you, Miss Free-Spirit, to do, right?"

Isabela didn't rise to the bait. "Well, partly." Leaning forward she came to rest her chin on her hand as she eyed his dirty tunic. "I was also told to try and convince you to reform the Guard."

Donnic couldn't help it, he laughed.

Beyond, Varric went on without hesitation. Though while his eyes weren't showing conviction, the words smoothly left his lips. "So he took over the Tower, like a protest, a demonstration, a way to make Meredith calm down and _listen_...and wow, did he _fail_." There were a few chuckles at that. "But not due to his own actions, did anyone see it? Or have you thought about it, at least? _How_ did Meredith get hold of those mages? The answer is simple, Garrett _gave_ them to her, they weren't part of what he wanted." Again, he paused, letting his gaze drop, as if sad. "Yet...the battle continues, and we all suffer as a result."

Someone in the crowd couldn't keep herself from speaking up. "Suffer? We're _dying_!"

"Yeah!"

"That's right!"

"My kid will die any day now, from a stinking _flu_. All the healers are off-limits in the templar camp!"

"My sons are just skin and bone..."

Varric ran with it, as Donnic knew he would. "And who's to blame for that? Hmm? The nobles and Garrett, our Champion, who tried to keep us fed for so long, only to now stay holed up in a Tower?"

"No!"

"I don't know, they're all assholes..."

"Hawke at least took care of us, _his_ men weren't the ones who killed my brother for being a 'mage-lover'...what the hell kind of accusation _is_ that anyway!? Where's the justice!?"

"Hawke was _just_!"

"Bullshit, he bought the courts!"

"But at least he _had_ courts! Meredith executes people in the streets!"

The temper was rising in the tavern, making Donnic glare even harder at Isabela. "You're mad, reform the Guard? For yours and Garrett's sake? To help him spread the civil was onto the streets? _Never_. The Guard keep the peace, they don't pick sides and wage war on Templars. Again, I say, _never_."

"Look, I don't have Garrett's way with words, certainly not Varric's..." Isabela rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. "...I could try speak about how Meredith's the great evil and unlawful and the greatest criminal Kirkwall has ever seen...Garrett certainly thought I would give that a go..."

Donnic snorted, as far as he was concerned, Meredith and Hawke were equally guilty of crimes against Kirkwall, and the fact that he still wasn't sure who'd killed Aveline burned deep in his soul still.

"..but I won't do that." Isabela finished, a cold twinkle in her eyes. "Instead I'm going to tell you this; Varric _will_ cause a big rebellion, Garrett will have his battle with Meredith...and if you want to be the Guardsman that Aveline loved, the one protecting the people...well then you just have to help out." She shrugged. "Or you don't, and you'll watch the people you'd sworn to protect get cut down, your choice, really."

Donnic, gritting his teeth so hard his jaw ached, glared at the woman as she leaned back in her seat.

Varric, smooth as silk, was still speaking. "Meredith does indeed do that. She kills people if there's even a suspicion of a crime with them, she takes their food, she takes their homes, she stops you all from leaving...why is that, do you think? Once she has hacked down Hawke and the nobles and mages...who do you think she'll turn her attention to next? So many...mage-friendly people out there, or 'sympathisers'...they'll need rooting out..."

The heat in the tavern dropped, turning to a chill as people stared at one another in horror.

Finally, a lone woman spoke up. "...shit, my brother's friend was a mage."

Another. "My sister is in Reinhart's guard, I have a cousin among the servants...

A man, swallowing. "I had a sister made Tranquil, had to be done, I'd say, yeah, but...oh fuck..."

"My mother washes Hawke's linens."

"I was a trader for Hawke."

"My farm's owned by Reinhart."

"I worked in the Bone Pit..."

Silence.

Then a man, large of girth and with a bristling beard, as well as his bulging muscles, the build of a blacksmith. "Well, shit, I'm not sitting here, waiting to be executed!"

_Maker, damn it_! Donnic moved to rise...and Isabela's foot came up to the edge of the table between them, shoving it hard into his gut and driving him back into his seat. "Told you, won't allow that, friend." She sighed as Donnic shot her another glare. "Look, I'm not telling you what to do, go hide in a hole if you so wish, but...just take Garrett's offer into consideration. He says the fighting will soon come to a close, that one side or the other will be crushed and routed. Now, if that happens to our side...well then the Templars at all those gates will cut down all who flee,_ the people_." Isabela eased her foot off the table, allowing Donnic some air once more. "He'd like it if you took them back, for the people's sake."

Rubbing his sore stomach, Donnic glared at the woman. "And if it's the _Templars_ that flee?"

Isabela's smile was sad. "Then...well...for the people's sake, the news of what has happened needs to be suppressed for as long as possible."

"You mean he wants me to kill Templars, then possibly kill more who're fleeing for their lives." Donnic felt his bile rise. _This is_..._what the hell happened to the world_?

Isabela shrugged, grimacing with a hint of sympathy. "Not an easy choice, I admit. But...well...what happens if it's _not_ the Templars who flee?" _Slaughter_..._Maker, Hawke, you monster_... "As I said, your decision."

The tavern's temperature had risen once more, turning blazing hot. "Damn right! I'm not hiding at home while waiting for Templars to come and gut me!"

"She doesn't care about us! Only her damn mages! She thinks we're all in on it!"

"She's killing us, _starving_ us, and we're sitting here doing _nothing_!"

"Maker, damn her! Brother, get my axe!"

"Hey, you're not going alone! I'm coming with you! Let's show that bitch the people of Kirkwall aren't to be messed with!"

"I'm coming too!"

"And me!"

"And I!"

"Time for revenge!"

"You're bloody right, time for justice!"

"Yes, justice!"

"Kill them all!"

Still sitting atop his barrels, but now forgotten as the people were working themselves into a frenzy, Varric looked sad as he watched what he had done.

Isabela, sighing, gave Donnic a significant look. "Better decide quickly though."

_Damn it_...

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_It is time_.

Garrett, standing with his hands behind his back, gazed down upon the city.

It was empty, dark...all save near the walls surrounding the Circle Tower. There, templar corpses still lay strewn across the way to the Tower, like little dots of silver strewn across dark cobbles. Then, there was the wall, the many breaches reinforced by palisades and sharpened stakes, all pointing in towards the besieged. Beyond, the Templars were at full alert, a ring of silver and steel and purple cloaks, disciplined regiments marching to and fro as the last orders were given.

Most of the templars were gathered around the breaches in the walls, facing the Tower, a new wall, made of steel-clad shields. Archers were placed atop wooden Towers. Troops of templars carrying pikes stood facing the entrance in the palisades, their flanks guarded by templars with spears and swords at the ready.

Many templars were facing outwards though, as the besiegers had become the besieged. Formations of templars, mostly three ranks deep, stood facing every street leading to the siege-lines. Spears levelled, shields up, they were each facing a sea of dark and motley colours, a horde unlike any Garrett had ever seen.

The city of Kirkwall in arms. Varric had succeeded beyond expectations, either that or people had truly been angry enough to start with...but to Garrett, it seemed like every civilian in the city had turned up with a weapon in hand.

There was no fighting, not _yet_, but it was in the air, loud chanting rising in the air as the mob worked itself into a frenzy, shouting curses and insults at the lines of silent templars.

It was only a matter of time before blows would be exchanged, no matter what Garrett did.

He didn't intend to remain a spectator, however.

Turning, he regarded the alchemist before him, a wiry old man with eyes wide as saucers as he met Garrett's gaze. "Ready the bombs, then come down and join us."

Somehow, the man's eyes turned even larger, as if he'd never expected the order to actually come...but then he turned and scuttled off with surprising speed, eager to get away from the intimidating Champion.

Garrett, casting a final glance at the city below, _his_ city, began his descent.

Mid-way down, he passed the door. Within, Merrill was still in bed, still in pain, still recovering.

Waiting for him, probably.

Garrett, his heart aching with pain, his chest bursting with dark anger, couldn't bring himself to stop, to say some final words of comfort.

If he did, he knew he might not go through with what he had planned, and by now, it was too late to back off.

So he walked past, his eyes narrow and dark, feeling like a storm-cloud was following him, growing more foreboding by the moment.

It hurt.

Yet, it was too late, too late for words, too late for forgiveness or love, too late for anything but hate and the end.

All too soon, he appeared on the bottom floor, in the great chamber where his nobles, his soldiers, his mages, all stood ready, waiting for him, _depending_ on him. Garrett, having appeared atop the stairs leading down to the main floor, stopped, looking them over.

Everywhere, there were frightened, but also hopeful, faces, all looking at him with fear, but also adoration, _trust_.

Yet there was no friendly face.

No Maric, no Varric, no Merrill, no Isabela, no Aveline, no Bethany, no mother...

Garrett, surrounded by his supporters, stood alone.

It hurt.

Yet Garrett, having embraced the pain and turning it into something more useful, didn't let it do anything but drive him to speak, to keep his voice clear and loud, to have it carry across the chamber.

"Nobles, soldiers, mages...friends, let me speak to you all in turn, for you all deserve it."

No one spoke as he paused, a shuffle of feet was all that could be heard.

"Nobles...I thank you for your great service, for your faith in me, for becoming all I've ever hoped of this city's elite. Meredith has taken so much from us, only to bond us closer, she has destroyed our homes, taken our wealth, ruined us...but let me tell you now, she has _not_ broken us, not as we're about to break _her_." Garrett bared his teeth. "We will today show her that Kirkwall is ours, _not_ hers."

There was no answer from the few nobles that remained, but they nodded, caught in the moment, their worn swords, once more for show than use, raised in silent salute and agreement.

"Soldiers...you have gone beyond what's expected of you, you were mercenaries, soldiers for pay...now you fight for us as brothers. I value each and every single one of you as highly as I do a noble or mage, for you have shown yourselves willing to lay down your lives, not just for coin, but for _me_, for what we fight for, and what more can one ask of a brother or sister than that?" Garrett nodded to himself. "You have fought with me, bled with me, so it is no hyperbole when I say that you are, indeed, _family_." He swallowed, meeting as many gazes as he could. "Thank you."

A sound of swords thumping against shields, fists hitting breastplates, rose from the soldiers, all raising their heads higher as they grimly gave voice to their approval.

"Mages...you were drawn into this in a way none could have expected, and to which you were the least equipped to handle. Yet you rose to the occasion, your aid, both with fire and ice as well as healing and protection...many of us would not be here today if not for you. _I_ would not be here if not for you. You have shown yourselves not only capable, but also disproved every assumption and prejudice held against you. There is not one left here that thinks anything but the best of you." Men and women, all across the room, nodded in agreement. "You are _not_ Circle mages, or _apostates_, or _maleficar_...you have shown yourselves as our friends, our _people_...and we would _die_ for any one of you."

The mages, though silent as the rest, looked around themselves in something akin to confusion...and found soldiers and nobles alike smile and nod at them...when they looked back to Garrett, they did so with their heads high and backs straight.

Garrett, lowering his head, took a shaky breath. "And last of all...for me.." Another breath, calmer. "All my life, I've searched for the smart way out, for keeping the peace, for keeping as many people as possible _alive_. I've haggled and discussed; diplomacy my weapon, even against those who refuse to speak with me, even against those who are anathema to compromise and rationality."

Silence, people waiting.

Slowly, Garrett raised his head, eyes flashing with rage. "But today, today I say...diplomacy ends. Meredith does not want discussion or compromise, she _refuses_ to be rational...so be it." Garrett fastened his helmet as he began to walk down the stairs to the main floor. "Then there will be no terms, no deals, she wants a battle? She will _have_ it." He drew his sword, raising his voice higher as he walked through a crowd of people parting before him, meeting the eyes of everyone he passed. "She wants death? She will _have_ it. She wants a _massacre_? She will _have_ it."

Then he was at the end of the room, facing the massive gap in the wall. Beyond, the Templars waited behind their palisades and shields.

Garrett raised his sword, pointing it at the enemy, eyes narrowing. "But it will _not_ be our death, _not_ a massacre of _us_!" He turned his head, looking back to his army. "Today, Meredith _dies_. Who's with me!?"

As one, the army roared back, fists raised.

"Good..." Lowering his visor, Garrett turned back to glare at the Templar line...and felt the ground shake as a muted boom travelled through the Tower.

_It is time_.

"_**Charge**_!"

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_Thanks to Abydos Jackson, for the moments._


	95. Chapter 95

"Commander, the streets are full of the rioters! Reports indicate the whole siege-line is besieged by them!" Though not panicking, there was something distinctly unnerving about the way the rioters had appeared. Just a day ago, there had been nothing, but _today_ it seemed like the entire _city_ had left their homes, or what was left of them, to roar their hatred at the Templars. The fact that every single one was armed didn't escape Cullen either. "They're also getting more agitated by the moment!"

He wasn't shouting in fright, or in desperation, he was simply shouting to make himself heard over the din of chanting.

"**Death to Meredith**! **Death to Meredith**! **Death to Meredith**!"

"**Death to Templars**!** Death to Templars**! **Death to Templars**!"

It _was_ unnerving though. Cullen shot a glance to the right, where a three rank deep line of templars, swords and shields at the ready, kept a horde of angry and dirty faces back. The people were brandishing all from clubs to knives and swords, yet despite their numbers, they didn't quite dare make good on their threats, all too aware of how fragile they were compared to the heavily armoured templars facing them. _Maker, this is bad_.

Next to him, Meredith had her back to the protesters, her gaze fixed on the Circle Tower within the siege lines, or rather, the gaping hole at its base where a myriad of people were apparently readying for an attack. Her voice, lost in the roar, was a low mutter. "_They're all under his sway_..._ every single one_..._have to_..._kill_..."

Cullen, frowning in confusion, leaned closer. "Commander!? What are you talking about!? We need to deal with this situation!"

"Only Hawke matters, they're only plebs, harmless." Meredith growled back, shooting him a glare. "Get ready, Captain, the final battle is at hand. Let Hawke play his card, we'll crush him with all our might or die trying." She glanced past him and at the twenty elite templars she'd assembled, mounted on caparisoned steeds, lances held high. "You'll lead the counter-attack that blunts the sally, then head back here, understood?"

"**Death to Meredith**! **Death to Meredith**! **Death to Meredith**!"

"**Death to Templars**!** Death to Templars**! **Death to Templars**!"

"And what of the city walls!? There's been a beacon lit, they're under attack!" Cullen stared at the woman. _Are you __that__ fixated_? _The whole city is rebelling and we're losing what little control we have as we wait_!

"Don't let him distract you. Maker, man, don't you see his strategy!? We must not let him weaken us here, not now when he's trying to flee!" Meredith turned back to glare at the distance Tower and its inhabitants. "He won't get away!" 

Cullen, all too well remembering Carver's pale head, placed on a plate like the challenge it was, served directly to Meredith, shivered. "I don't think he's planning to escape..."

Meredith stood still for a moment, then turned her head, looking at him with a curious look.

Then the ground shook

All heads turned towards Circle Tower, the chanting dying out as everyone stared at the massive cloud of dust billowing out from the middle of the Circle Tower.

_What in the_...

With a groan of stone against stone, the top half of the Tower started to swing like a tree in the wind, then slide sideways, _towards them_.

..._Maker's_...

Then, something caught it at the base, jolting it to a stop...but only there, the top still moved, felling the whole Tower like a tree. _Towards them_.

..._name_?

As one, the Templars at the palisades facing the city took a step back, then another one...and then they threw themselves left and right with frightened cries.

Meredith turned, eyes wide as she met Cullen's stare...and then the Tower smashed into the ground. Only the tip of the Tower reached the siege lines, but it was enough as with godlike force it smashed the palisades and sharpened stakes facing the Tower into splinters. Some templars, too slow to get away, didn't even get to cry out as they were simply buried and flattened under an avalanche of stones. Others, while escaping the main bulk of stones, still had rogue pieces that had come off the main structure smash into them. The force of the impacts crushed breastplates and helmets alike, killing and maiming indiscriminately.

Still, the losses were few, the _real_ damage was the complete chaos. The numerous templars picked to protect the breach in the wall were all scattered, shocked, some running, others paralysed, some simply lost, walking shadows in the cloud of dust shrouding the area in a grey mist.

For a moment, the silence following the impact was deafening.

Then, beyond the dust, from what remained of the Tower, a roar, full of defiance and animalistic rage, rose high, sending a shiver of dread down Cullen's spine._ That is __not__ the shout of people intending to flee_...

A moment later, another roar greeted the first, a _louder_ one, raised by so many voices so as to make the air shimmer with the force of it. A roar taken up by the citizens of Kirkwall, _every single one of them_.

A cry made Cullen and Meredith turn, watching three templars facing the rioters go down before they, even knew they'd been attacked. The rest, raising their shields and turning back towards the crowds, lunged, pushing the initial rush back. Their blood-slick swords thrust and cut, sending a dozen of the unarmoured people to the ground in moments as they, pushed forth by the crowd, had nowhere to go to escape or even parry.

All around, the din of combat was suddenly filling the air, and Cullen knew every part of the siege-line had come under assault by the citizens. Shaking off the horror of it, Cullen only managed a single coherent thought of what that meant. _The losses will be horrific for them, but they'll pin all our troops down as Hawke_..._Maker_...

He turned, watching, as shapes began to appear in the haze, dark shapes, _running_ shapes, _charging_ shapes.

At the head, a _familiar_ one, blindly ploughing forward, smashing a confused templar's face in with a swinging shield, his roar full of rage and hate. "_Meredith_!"

Behind, a yellow light grew, and then shot out, over the heads of the templars desperately gathering to form a unified front...and into the backs of those holding back the mass of civilians.

With a whoosh, the fire expanded like it had been buffeted by the wind...and over a dozen templars, too preoccupied with fighting the civilians to even notice the attack until it was too late...were turned into human torches. Screaming, writhing, they twisted and ran...and then the line of confused templars, already wavering from the onslaught of the civilians, buckled and _broke_.

Like a flood pushing through a broken dam, the horde of civilians rushed in, hacking and slashing like mad at anything they reached. And the templars, suddenly on their own, were assailed by multiple foes.

There, a templar feinted his foe, making her lower her blade for a parry, only for his thrust to cut her neck open...and then fell on his stomach, a fat man atop him, hatchet striking down over and over, turning the helmet and skull of the templar into mush.

Five feet away, a templar spun, blocking a club with his shield while gutting the user, the following thrust going through the sternum of a charging man...and sticking there as a swarm of elven women rushed in, knives flashing.

Further off, two templars fought back to back, killing foe after foe...and then a soldier in chainmail tackled one of them, knocking her back and driving her ever backwards with a flurry of blows...leaving the other templar to get his spine shattered by a sledge.

Slowly, Cullen turned his stare back to Meredith, watching her go pale...and then turn towards him. Her tone was bereft of the usual cold, but it wasn't afraid either, not warm or stressed. It was _calm_, dull. "Take your cavalry and make for the first gate you can reach, escape and don't stop until you find the Divine. Tell her what has happened."

Cullen, mouth working silently for a moment, managed to shake his head in shock. "Commander, I..."

"_Go_!" The woman shoved him back, her face unreadable...and then she turned and drew her blade, stalking towards the combat with long strides.

For a long moment, he just stared at the woman as she marched away. She looked determined, having shed all doubts, strategies and responsibilities, she almost looked...content. Content enough to walk to her death.

Cullen, feeling a string of shame, turned though, gripping the reins of the horse a wide-eyed templar offered to his horse...and swung himself into the saddle. "You heard the Commander, we're leaving!" Mentally, he was already drawing a map of Kirkwall, trying to find the best route through the combat that would lay before him. "Follow me!"

With a snap of the reins, Cullen set off, his templars following him, lances lowered as they rose straight for a street full of people.

Screaming at the top of his lungs, he drew their attention...and relief flooded him as frightened people scattered in all directions. Some were too slow and were smashed down by the powerful horses, others, trying to strike at the passing horsemen, were pierced by lances that slew them outright.

And then the group was through, now drawn blades slashing at the people still trying to escape and attack at the same time. Looking forward, down the road, face grim, Cullen couldn't help but note what a long gauntlet of death he was about to ride...

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"Captain!"

Looking up from the warning, Donnic, sick to his stomach, tried to ignore the dead bodies littering the ground around the gatehouse. He had hoped the Templars would surrender, that the outnumbered sentries would see sense...instead they had fought on bitterly, crying out defiance and claims of the guards being controlled by blood-magic.

A few had been captured at the end, but most lay dead, alongside far too many of his guardsmen, people who had believed his words about protecting the people one last time, of serving Kirkwall, of _duty_.

It had been a mistake, listening, doing what he in his gut believed wrong. Trying to save lives by taking them was all too foolish a notion, and now the proof of his foolishness lay in the mud, in pools of their own blood.

_Damn Isabela, damn Varric, damn Hawke_...

Still, done was done, now all there was was to ensure no more of his people died. As such, Donnic's gaze moved to the guard that had spoken up. The man's left arm was in a sling, but his good one was pointing a spear ahead without wavering. "Templars!"

Donnic's face fell. He'd almost hoped for it to be _civilians_ running for the gate, for if it had been, then he would at least have done something good in giving them a way out of the city, he would have been protecting them from the templars...instead of closing templars into a trap, as morally a grey deed as could be found.

"Form ranks!" Exhausted, but disciplined, two dozen guardsmen heeded his call and formed a two rank deep line, spears levelled and shields raised. Ahead only three templars were coming for them, though mounted, it was clear they would stand no chance. In fact, even as they approached, they were slowing into a canter, then a trot, slowing down before finally stopping. Donnic, seeking the faces, found his own open in shock. "Cullen!?"

The man looked grim, gaze scanning the dead templars still strewn around the gate, then the guards arrayed against him. Though grim, there was little hostility, only a weariness, almost as if he'd given up. The men at his side were faring far more poorly. The man on the left was clutching a deep wound across his stomach, and judging by the hint of intestines under his hand, would die the moment he dismounted. The man on the right, meanwhile, was riding a horse covered in bleeding cuts and, the man himself riding with a knife sticking out of his thigh, seemingly forgotten.

"Dear Maker..." Donnic found himself breathing, taking a step past the line of guardsmen. "What's...is..."

"I don't think the Maker has anything to do with this, Captain." Cullen replied, watching the other warrior with surprising calm for someone outnumbered and cornered. He looked...calm, waiting to see if he was going to die or not with eerie ease.

"I...suppose not." Donnic held the man's gaze, watched his acceptance of his imminent death...and found himself averting his eyes. _Damn Hawke, that's it, I'm done, no more killing_. "Open the gate."

"Se-Serah?" A guardsman stuttered, confused.

"Open the gate and stand down, let them through." Donnic gestured vaguely at the gate...and the guardsmen reluctantly split their line, two running up to the gate to heave it open. Ignoring them, he looked back to Cullen, the Templar still looking at him with an eerie calm. "Do what you feel is right, templar, I'm done with this city." The words were meant to be grim, but came out with a tired sigh instead.

Turning his head, Cullen looked back, towards the screaming and battling, when he looked back, his face was sad."I think we all are."

A final nod, and the man urged his mount into a trot, the two others quietly following, heading out the gate and away from Kirkwall.

Looking after the man, Donnic shook his head. "Maker go with you."

8

8

8

Roaring incoherently, Garrett let it all loose.

All the years of anger.

All the years of frustration.

All the pain.

All the fear.

All the guilt.

All the sadness.

A Templar pulled back at the roar, eyes wide under her helmet...and Garrett sent the woman's sword flying with a swing of his own blade, the return blow smashing through visor, eyes and bone with a wet crunch.

She fell, nearly pulling Garrett's blade with her before he tore it free in a flood of blood. Another templar, a large man, roared back as appeared out of the dust and brought his great axe down on Garrett. Dropping onto one knee, Garrett let the blow impact with his raised shield as his sword scythed out in a backhand blow, cutting deep into the back of his foe's knee. The man cried out, fell on his back, and then Garrett was atop him, the rim of his shield coming down under the templar's helmet, crushing his adam's apple.

Rising, Garrett roared out again, in triumph, in hatred, in a want for _blood_.

A Templar, thin and young, cried out more in fear than anything and rushed at Garrett...who met the charge. Shield to shield, they crashed into one another, the impact sending the smaller man backwards, loose helmet falling off his head. Before he could recover, Garrett's high cut turned into a feint and a low a low thrust, catching his foe in the hip. There was a grunt, the chainmail stopped the blow, but the impact still drove the foe to his knee...and Garrett's next blow was a vicious swing from over the shoulder.

The young templar toppled, his head spraying blood all over Garrett's breastplate as it was sent flying.

Garrett roared again, hands held high...and turned in time to see something large thunder at him, as well as a flashing streak of silver.

For a moment, darkness took him.

Then he was shaking his head, ears ringing as he coughed, breathing in the dust from the ground he lay on. Rolling onto his stomach, he got onto all fours and looked up, watching a templar on a large brown horse turn his mount, sword raised for another pass at the noble...

Then a crossbow bolt buried itself deep into his armpit, making the sword fall from limp fingers. The rider hunched over, then fell to the left, his foot catching in the stirrup as his frightened horse bolted, dragging the corpse with it.

Using his sword for leverage, Garrett rose, eyes searching now that the red mist had lifted.

He could see the Templar's killer. Varric had taken position up on one of the wooden towers the templars had built, and now the new user was using it to deadly effect to pick off the unsuspecting templars below caught up in the battle for their lives.

Below, Isabela had taken up position, the woman seemingly dancing, moving like water around the templars seeing the danger of the dwarf and trying to reach the Tower, cutting them down with quick thrusts of her long daggers.

Both wore faces that might as well have been masks, grim and resolute, intent on getting the deed over and done with.

Everywhere else, emotions ranged from terror to rage. Templars and civilians and mages and soldiers and nobles all locked in a deadly butchery as neither side was in a position to ask nor grant mercy. There was no order, no battle-lines, only a chaotic melee as the Templar lines broke and the other side didn't even _try_ to keep a formation.

There, a soldier and a templar duelled, two handers swinging left and right in a deadly dance...only for the templar to fall onto his side, a thickset woman clambering atop him, meat-cleaver madly hacking at his armour until the soldier brought down a more decisive blow, severing the templar's leg at the knee.

Over by the Circle Tower's wall, a templar had positioned herself atop a boulder, her shield dropped, but the spear in her hands was thrusting left and right at a writhing mass of civilians trying to get to her. Her thrusts were quick and precise though, the spear felling four of her foes in quick succession. One man tried to climb atop the boulder, only for her armoured boot to catch him in the teeth as she continued killing.

Atop a wooden tower, a pair of templar archers drew and shot their bows as quick as they could at the mass of unarmoured civilians trying to press into a buckling group of templars. Then a fireball struck the tower, making one templar topple over the railing as the other shrieked, body wreathed in fire as the entire tower was suddenly aflame.

By a tent, a noble, plate armour shining with polish, ducked under two spear-thrusts by a pair of templars, then brought his mace to bear, caving in a helmet before his foes could recover before barrelling into the survivor, grappling hands and legs driving the foe onto his back before the noble reached for his dagger...

Further off, a troop of templars had managed to form a fighting circle, the man in the centre shouting encouragement as the embattled templars cut down the mass coming at them, like a rock in a writhing sea. Beyond, a group of soldiers were gathering, forming an improvised wedge to smash the templar formation...and then a pair of fireballs, followed by a trio of lightning bolts and wind of ice swept in among the templars.

Caught in their frenzy, the people didn't shy away from the thing they'd been taught to fear, instead, the civilians rushed in. A felling-axe cut short the flailing of a burning templar. A club shattered the skull of a frozen templar. A falchion severed the head of a legless templar. A knife was pushed through the vision-slit of the templar leader as he knelt, paralysed and rendered helpless by the electricity coursing through him.

Everywhere, the Templars, members of the mightiest force of Kirkwall, were _dying_.

Broken, leaderless, alone and outnumbered, they died.

Garrett was _winning_.

"Champion!" Whoever roared the warning saved his life, for when Garrett turned, shield raised, it barely stopped the blow that would otherwise had split his skull in two.

Behind the shield, snarling at him like an animal, Meredith stood. Her dark armour, dented and dusted, had lost its lustre. The greatsword in her hands had not a scratch on it though, the dragonbone blade Garrett had gifted her proof against any blow, the already dark blade shimmered, black with blood.

Black with the blood of his Carver, of Maric, of his _child_.

Snarling back, Garrett pushed out with his shield, driving Meredith back. Then he rushed after, swinging wildly at her exposed face, only to have her lean back and out of reach, her longer blade coming up from his lower right, under his sword-arm, gouging a line across his breastplate.

Undaunted, he pursued, his thrust aimed at her chest deflected by a two-handed parry that turned into an overhand swing, only for it to slide off his raised shield as Garrett continued to advance.

It wasn't a red mist of rage gripping him now, it was _black_, cold, hard...and _unrelenting_.

He didn't stop, he didn't run, he advanced one step at a time, shield raised, sword thrusting, always thrusting, like a scorpion's stinger, it lashed out without pause or mercy.

There were no feints, no tricks, the blows simply aimed for what was closest at the time. Her face, her arms, her leg, her torso.

Meredith, forced back by the onslaught, parried again and again, deflecting and sidestepping, she let the blows skim off armour or hit air. Her eyes hard, holding Garrett's gaze as he glared back.

Smouldering rage meeting icy hate.

Then Meredith kicked out, momentarily stopping Garrett's onslaught as he took the blow to his shield...and then _she_ was advancing, her longer sword thrusting and slashing, cutting and hacking.

Garrett, crouching low as he backed away, let the blows rain over his shield. When they were too low to block, he jumped over it, when too high, he ducked. Behind his shield, looking just over the rim, his eyes narrowed as sweat stung him, almost blinding him.

Then Meredith slashed a downward cut...and Garrett lunged.

Shield raised high leaping forward, he blocked Meredith's blow, her cross-guard loudly thumping into his shield even as his sword thrust out at Meredith's dented breastplate.

She twisted and let go of the blade with her left hand, the arm coming down to catch Garrett's blade between her torso and arm, her hand gripping him by the elbow, her sword-arm hooking around his shield...and then she twisted.

Garrett, feeling his centre of gravity shift, forced himself to move with the motion, to roll with the fall rather than to struggle against it...and was in moments on his feet, having switched places with Meredith.

He was starting to fume, the smoulder in his gaze turning into a blazing fire as he glared at the object of all that he hated in the world.

At the other end, the woman's icy glare had turned into disgust, as if she was looking down at some wretched insect barely worth squashing...

With a roar, Garrett hurtled forward...and saw the light of triumph in Meredith's gaze a moment too late.

She twisted clockwise at his charge, against his thrusting blade, stepping into his right side, one hand holding the grip of her sword, the other her blade, she caught Garrett's blade between her body and weapon...and twisted further.

With a gasp, Garrett staggered on, the blade wrenched out of his hands.

Turning, he raised his shield and reached for his side. His longsword might be gone, but his arming sword...

With a crash, Meredith smashed into his shield with her whole body, hooked her cross-guard over the right side of his rim...and twisted clockwise again, the movement causing his shield to move to the left, to open...

A slash, and the grip to the shield was cut by the dragonbone sword, the impact sending the shield itself flying.

Garrett, growling in anger, moved closer, gripping the woman's blade with his hands...and then her elbow shot up, smashing into his visor.

_No_! 

With a crunch, Garrett fell onto his back, vision swimming even as he fumbled with his belt, trying to draw the blade stuck between himself and the ground.

Meredith advanced...and then half a dozen men were upon her. Dressed in filthy rags, their faces gaunt, they were none the less full of power and rage as they bowled into the woman, short-swords, hatchets and knives flashing, drawing blood.

_Yes, kill her_!

Meredith gasped, then twisted, moving with decisive turns to make the blows skim off her armour. She stomped her foot down behind that of the man grabbing her sword twisting, she bowled him over before grabbing her blade with one hand as the other held onto the grip. Shortened, the long blade was now a danger to the men crowding around her, but the first didn't even realise it before she with a twist made his thrust slide off her armour while her own blade made his intestines pour out over his feet.

_No_!

Twisting the other way, her shortened blade jabbed straight into the chest of a man that had his hatchet raised to hack into the back of her head. Instead _he_ fell, limp and eyes wide in surprise. Her arm shot up, blocking a knife from striking her face before her elbow shot into the offending man's face, shattering it into a bloody pulp when the edge of her plate caught his eye socket.

_Die, die, die, damn you_!

Two leaped onto her back, grabbing at her arms as the last rose from his earlier fall, axe raised...and then dropping as Meredith's foot caught him in the jugular. Twisting, she threw one man off her, dropped her sword and drawing her dagger she stabbed back under her still pinned arm, making the man still holding her fall, clutching his stomach.

_No_!

Grunting, the woman crouched fast, picked up her sword and rose with it held high.

_Why won't you die_!?

Screaming, the remaining man, now on one knee, raised his blade in a parry.

The dragonbone smashed through the steel, then through a skull, neck, chest and pelvis.

In an explosion of blood, the man was split in half.

Meredith, growling in annoyance, moved to free her sword...

And then Garrett smashed into her, blade forgotten, skills and tactics and _sense_ forgotten, he bowled her over.

_Die, die, die_!

Straddling her chest, he knocked aside an attempt to grip him...and then slammed his gauntleted fist into Meredith's face. She stared at him, dazed, then coldly, icy glare unflinching.

_Why won't you die_!?

Again, he punched down, blood spurting from Meredith's mouth as the blow broke bone.

Again, she glared back, uncompromising, unbending.

_Die_! _Die_! _Die_!

He punched, punched again, and again, and _again_. Blood, gristle, teeth, bits of bone, it was everywhere, spurting, spraying across the ground.

And still, she glared up at him with those cold eyes of hers.

_DIE_! _DIE_! _DIE_!

Then the eyes were no more, turning into grey mush and blood.

Gasping for air, swaying, dizzy, Garrett looked down at what remained. The woman's head was now no more than the stump of her neck and pieces of her shattered skull, the rest lay strewn across her body

Raising his gaze, Garrett could see the battle was still being fought, but by now it was shifting more and more in his favour as the templars were slaughtered alone or in pairs, none being shown mercy or respite.

It was turning into a massacre.

_Maker, what have I done_?

8

8

8

_Thanks to Abydos Jackson, for managing more than I ever could (including me)._


	96. Epilogue

Garrett's feet were heavy, leaden weights seemingly dragging them down as he struggled to reach the height of the crudely made platform of wood taken from the Templar palisades.

There was rain in the air, but so far the wind held still, the clouds above seemingly poised above the city.

It was over.

Yet _not_, for life was not some final destination, not some definitive goal. It lingered on, with new challenges and new choices.

So now, a day past the greatest battle in Kirkwall's history, the question was on everyone's mind, none more so than Garrett's. The question of 'what now'? After all the drama, all the combat, all the suffering, then the mix of horror and relief when it was all over...it almost seemed obscene that life would go on, that there was no reward or penalty save for the one they made.

Things had been organised, as best as the stunned nobles and Garrett had been able to. Fortunately, the shock had been great enough on the rest of the people that they had simply gone along with it, not knowing what else to do.

There weren't many Templar survivors left after the battle, near a thousand only. They had been locked away inside the dungeon of the Viscount's keep for now, until Garrett made a decision regarding them. If all had gone to plan, if things hadn't gone as they had, he might have ordered to have them quietly killed. With no Templars to tell the tale of what had happened, anyone seeking retribution would at least be tempered by curiosity and confusion, rather than urged on by the survivors. But Donnic had flat out told Garrett he'd let Cullen ride on. That made the choice pointless, the report would come in anyway, but at least by one of the more moderate Templars. Sparing the survivors would then probably be the better choice, showing mercy and humanity...for what it was worth after such a butchery.

Also, Garrett was thoroughly sick of killing.

So had Donnic been. The man had told Garrett in no veiled words what he thought of the man, and then he had left with his Guardsmen. Despite the harsh final words, Garrett wished the man well, he doubted he would be able to hold the survivors of his Guardsmen together, but after all the man had gone through, much thanks to Garrett, he deserved some peace, at least.

Despite the lack of Guardsmen, despite the end of the Templars, the city was quiet and orderly, the people too tired and shocked to think of anything. As such, they had heeded Garrett's call for an assembly without argument, for him to speak to them.

It hadn't been hard to find a space open and large enough to admit all the people of Kirkwall, the blast caused by Anders was huge, and it had annihilated everything within its radius so well as to make the ground nearly flat under the feet of all standing before him. The little platform Garrett was climbing atop was standing right where the Chantry's Tower had once stood, or roughly there. If he'd been a more superstitious man, Garrett would have expected lightning to strike him down at any moment, but as it was, it was just another irony that where the heart of the Chantry had stood was where he, who had destroyed its defenders, would speak to the masses.

Atop the platform, only a few stood, the few who mattered.

Isabela, hands still caked with blood from the many injured she'd tended to, the woman seemingly having forgotten about it all, which was no surprise given her vacant and tired gaze. It was another of life's ironies that Anders, who'd taken so many innocent lives, had taught her to save many of them at the end.

Varric, coat ruined by cuts and blood, Isabela smudged and cracked by ash and blows, the man looked nothing like the charming rogue he was...nor did he seem to care about either his appearance or his beloved crossbow. Instead he was looking at Garrett, attentive, but neutral, like a secretary noting down things at a meeting, rather than a participant. The man was mentally writing the end of his story, Garrett knew, but now it seemed more an obligation than a pleasure.

And then there was Merrill. Beautiful, broken, little Merrill.

Garrett felt his weary heart getting squeezed tight as he saw her. She had gone quiet. No longer was she asking questions or offering opinions or advice at a drop of a hat. And it was not just quiet in the literal sense, but _mentally_ too, something within her...shutting itself away.

He could still sense her supporting him, her eyes said that much...but he saw no approval, no eagerness...he wasn't even sure if he still saw _love_.

He hoped it was still there, with all his heart, but he could no longer know...and knowing that he was the cause of that hurt more than anything else.

He'd been a fool.

Too hurt by the sight to look at his few remaining companions any more, Garrett crested the platform and turned to face the massive crowd before him, all looking up with pale faces.

He was still dressed in his armour, though dented, it had been polished enough to remove all the blood. The gauntlets and helmet were missing through, the former he'd thrown away in disgust at the sight of Meredith's flesh stuck to them, the later had...he didn't even recall where' he'd lost it. Atop his head though, the small black crown of iron that was the Viscount's rested.

It was so small, yet, for some reason, it was heavier than anything Garrett had ever carried.

He'd wanted it for so long...and now he wanted to throw it away.

Yet more irony, yet more regret.

There was far from a million faces looking up to him, the city's population had halved, if not more. Some had escaped before the Templars locked the city down, _many_ had died, and others had, wisely, scurried off after the battle-frenzy had simmered down, realising what they'd done.

Still, there was an impressive number looking up at him. At the front, the nobles, mages and soldiers who'd aided him in the Circle Tower stood at the front, mixed together depending on their bonds of friendship, one could barely tell the mage from the soldier or the noble anymore. Beyond, the rest was a sea of gaunt and tired citizens, people who hadn't eaten a full meal since the battle had started.

They all bore the mark of the battle in some way.

Haunted eyes, scars, lost limbs, weapons forgotten in their hands...all had been shaped by the recent events.

"My friends." Garrett somehow managed to raise his voice to that of a speech worthy of a Viscount, though the words nearly stuck in his throat. "My people."

There was no answer, only a gust of wind.

Looking around himself, Garrett licked his lips. "We have liberated ourselves, all of us are free from the tyranny of Meredith."

Again, none answered, only a few nodded, the rest waited for the other shoe to fall, understanding all too well the look on his face.

"But sometimes, the price to pay is too heavy. Sometimes, liberation means not only freedom, but loss of all else you hold dear."

Behind him, Merrill shifted where she stood, making him grimace.

"I'm sorry."

This is it. Garrett took a deep breath, looking out over the city. In the distance, the Keep of the templars rose, smoke still rising from a fire someone had set. The Viscount's Keep, smaller, was nearly hidden behind the black smoke. The tower of the Circle, meanwhile, was a broken spire, a shattered finger, accusingly pointing at the sky.

The city was in ruins.

"We have all killed Templars, and no matter the reason, no matter our explanations, we are _all_ criminals in the eyes of the Chantry."

Now, some reacted, but only by shifting where they stood, exchanging worried glances. Most, however, looked to him, knowing his words as truth.

"You did what was right, for yourselves, for your families, for all of us...but that doesn't change the fact that we will now be hunted, that we are now targets."

Again, Garrett looked up, at the Viscount's Keep, regret gripping him, making his shoulders slump as he looked back to his people.

"As such, for your protection, my first order as Viscount will be my last..."

More irony, gaining the power simply to relinquish it, Garrett was beginning to hate it.

"The city must empty. You are _all_ free to do as you wish, but for any who stays...Maker's mercy be with you, I think you'll need it. For the rest of us...scatter, go to the other free cities, to Ferelden, to Orlais, to Nevarra, Antiva and Rivain, to the Dales..._anywhere_ else but here, for Kirkwall will now be the target for the Divine and her entire might."

Garrett had expected at least some protests, or surprise; instead he got silence, the people still looking at him.

"I might not be able to save Kirkwall from all of this, but I _can_ save her people, it's the least I can do for you all. I've gathered all the remaining food and coin of the city at the Viscount's Keep, go there, take what you can, but don't burden yourselves with things you do not need. Take it, and go, find safe harbour and live your lives there, never speak of this time, and you'll make a new life...please."

Silence.

Then someone realised Garrett would not continue. Without a word, she turned and left, shaking her head.

Garrett, raising his arms, removed the Viscount's crown from his head, and gently placed it on the ground in front of him, staring at the simple symbol of power with regret._ So much for power, for being the ruler_...

When he straightened and looked up again, the space was emptying, everyone slowly turning and walking away, dazed, many confused, all following the current, not knowing what else to do.

_And so, with a few words, I've destroyed what was left of Kirkwall_.

A hollow feeling in his gut, Garrett turned to regard the others. The three were looking at him; even Merrill. All with tired eyes, but it was good to see them still standing there, rather than just leaving.

He didn't deserve it.

"I...won't ask it of you." Garrett finally said, swallowing. "You can choose what you do, and you deserve all the happiness in the world for all you've done. I owe each one of you my life and more, I only wish I could repay it all."

The words felt flat, without his usual flare and strength, but Garrett had nothing more in him, he couldn't cajole or convince them, not now. Instead, he simply waited.

Isabela was the first to react, the woman shaking herself out of the vacant look on her face. "I...sure, for a while at least." She offered an uncertain chuckle. "You promised me a ship before, after all, maybe you can fulfil that on the way at some point..." Her smile faded. "Or not, doesn't matter, but I'll come along for a while, at least."

Garrett smiled at her, unable to say all that he should. _You've become such a different person since we met, loyal, kind, helpful and a true friend, a better one than I deserve_. The woman swallowed as she met his gaze, then looked away, blushing slightly as a tear ran down her cheek.

Then, Varric crossed his arms over his chest. "You know what...I think I'll stay here for a while."

Garrett blinked in surprise and horror, looking at the dwarf as if he'd gone mad.

In response, Varric shrugged and managed a smirk. "What? This is where they'll come for all the answers, and I have a tale to tell by now..." The smirk turned into a warmer smile. "And if by doing so, I'll save some lives, yours included...well, then I'll have done something." _To atone for following my orders about causing a rebellion_. Garrett grimaced, but nodded, understanding. "Don't worry though, I'm a survivor, and I'll spin a tale that'll go down into the annals of history...yeah, I won't have it any other way, buddy." 

Stepping forward, Garrett offered his hand. Varric hesitated, but then relented with a smile, taking it, gripping tight as he met Garrett's gaze. "Thank you, friend." 

"Oh please, don't make me gush like our pirate here." Varric chuckled.

A sniffled laugh escaped Isabela at that, the woman keeping her head turned away even as she smiled from under her hair. "Oh shut up, jackass..."

Finally, Garrett turned to Merrill, heart in his throat, his chest impossibly tight.

The smile she offered was minuscule, her nod tiny. "Yeah...I'll come." _If only because I have nowhere else to go, nothing else to do, if only because I have nothing left but you, if only because I still hope for the happiness we once felt_. She didn't say it, but then again, she didn't have to.

Garrett didn't wait for it, he took her hand, without his gauntlets on, he could feel the warmth...and he'd missed it so much it made tears prickle his eyes. _Why did I not choose to feel it more often_? He choked on the words, but they finally left his lips, small, overwhelmed.

"Thank you..."

With that, the little group looked at one another, the survivors of so much war and subterfuge, and left the platform.

As they began to move across the open wound in the city, not really sure where they were going, it finally started to rain.

Garrett closed his eyes, letting the cool water wash over him.

Letting it wash away the tears.

8

8

8

_Thanks to Abydos Jackson for all her hard work, her dedication and willingness to go on. There's none better._


End file.
